


Swiftpaw’s Chance

by wrenegade_writes



Series: The Everybody Lives AU [1]
Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe- Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Swiftpaw Lives AU, and lots more!, definitely read the notes, i hesitate to call fic about cats enemies to lovers but like. technically? yeah, im not entirely sure how to tag this, like a lot of hurt but of course a lot of comfort, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:41:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 51,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24616216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrenegade_writes/pseuds/wrenegade_writes
Summary: After the howling stops, after the snapping teeth and flashing claws vanish, after the forest grows deathly still, there are two bodies on the forest floor. And this time, it’s not just Brightpaw who’s still breathing.A “Swiftpaw Lives” AU (among other things).
Relationships: Brightheart/Cloudtail (Warriors), Brightheart/Swiftpaw, Cloudtail/Swiftpaw (Warriors), Swiftpaw/Brightheart/Cloudtail, eventually with a capital E
Series: The Everybody Lives AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035663
Comments: 77
Kudos: 135





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, in case you missed both the tags and the summary, this is an AU where Swiftpaw isn’t killed by the dogs. And, once I had the putty of canon in my hands and realized I could do way more than that, naturally I had to put in some of my favorite AUs....which will all come later, so no spoilers yet!
> 
> I’m also writing this fic as I go, so any suggestions/requests for what you want to see are welcome! I’ll try to update once a week if I can, but I’m notoriously bad at schedules. And finally:
> 
> WARNING: the beginning of this chapter is pretty gory, I deliberately wrote it to be disturbing. If you’re sensitive to gore, you can skip to the “-0-0-0-“ at the scene break.
> 
> EDIT: I completely forgot to talk about the timeline for this which is A Little Important! I'm planning for this fic here to go up through the end of A New Prophecy, and then hopefully I can take it out to the end of Omen of the Stars, but....without writing like 20 books. Hopefully. We'll see how it goes.

After the howling stops, after the snapping teeth and flashing claws vanish, after the forest goes deathly still, there are two bodies on the forest floor. The air smells like blood and dog and death. 

And Swiftpaw opens his eyes.

His vision is blurry, edged in red, and every fibre of his being is pulsing pain with the beat of his heart, but he is alive. He lifts his head, turns to look at his flank, where the worst of the pain seems to be radiating from. 

There’s nothing left.

All of his fur, in a wide swath that seems to cover most of the back half of his body, is completely gone. So, it seems, is most of his skin, leaving his back a glistening red slab of meat pumping blood onto the grass. A few thin strips of shredded flesh lay loosely across the wound; one or two has peeled back and hangs down to the dirt. As he watches, a fly lands on his back, right in the bloody, pulpy mess of it all, and Swiftpaw can’t even lift his tail to flick it away. He shifts his hind leg slightly and catches a flash of white, smeared in red, where the bite went down to the bone. Bile rises thick and choking in his throat and he turns his head, emptying whatever is left in his stomach onto the ground.

It’s excruciating, the heaving of his flanks aggravating his wounds and the acid burning up his throat. By the time it’s done Swiftpaw can’t even lift his head anymore. He lays on the ground, his vision mostly obscured by blades of grass and dead leaves. In the corner of his eye he sees white and black and red, and manages to turn his head towards it. It’s his tail, or half of it, ending in a bloody, trailing stump. Dimly he wonders if that can be fixed, but the thought is slippery and distant. His tail is on the ground. It’s not attached to him anymore. That seems odd. 

Swiftpaw notes, half a thought, that he might be dying. There’s a distant sort of feeling, there, heart racing and breath catching, something rushing and all-consuming, but it’s happening to someone else, and Swiftpaw can’t grasp it. He turns his head again, focuses on blades of grass in front of his nose. They aren’t moving. Nothing is. The forest is deathly still. Swiftpaw thinks he might be asleep, now. Possibly dead.

But beyond the grass, there’s something else, something red against the greens and brown of the forest, and under that, ginger and white.

_Brightpaw._

He’s awake again. Swiftpaw can’t tell if she’s breathing. He tries, for a moment, to lift his head, but all that gets him is half a second’s glimpse and more pain when he thuds back down. 

“B-Brightpaw,” he whispers, his voice scraping raw in his throat. 

He has to get to her.

He moves one paw, gets it underneath him, tries to push up. His leg shakes, shakes, shakes, and for one second he lifts up some, and then falls again. Everything hurts. 

“ _Brightpaw. Brightpaw._ ”

Slowly, Swiftpaw stretches one paw towards Brightpaw, then the other. Absently, he notes that his claws have been torn out on his right paw. It feels like the same sort of numb wrongness as his severed tail—something that should be attached to him is not. That’s the hard part, not the pain of it. Not when everything hurts. Swiftpaw blinks the thought away and digs his existing claws into the earth and pulls himself forward, dragging his body through the dirt.

The sound of tearing flesh mixes with the white-hot agony searing down his side mixes with the sound of his unhinged howl. For a blinding moment the world is nothing but pain, pain, pain. There’s blood in his mouth, coppery and thick. 

He has to get to Brightpaw.

This time, when he stretches out his paws, Swiftpaw is more careful, lifting his body up as much as he’s able, pushing weakly with his hind legs, and it hurts, hurts, _hurts,_ but he doesn’t tear himself apart, so it’s okay. 

“I’m coming, Brightpaw,” he breathes. “I’m coming, please, hang on.”

Inch by slow, agonizing inch, Swiftpaw makes his way across the clearing towards the other apprentice. With every pull he tells himself _one more, one more_ , until finally, somehow, he collapses for the last time right in front of Brightpaw, eyes closed, breathing for a long moment.

When he opens his eyes, it’s worse.

Not for him—Brightpaw. The whole left side of her face is a mess of blood and tissue, her ear hanging by a thread. Somehow it looks worse than the ruin that is Swiftpaw’s back. Her eye. Her _ear_. It’s all wrong. 

And it’s all his fault.

Swiftpaw presses his muzzle against her face as best he can. “Brightpaw. Brightpaw, I’m so sorry, I'm so _sorry,_ please, please-“

She’s breathing. Barely. But it’s there, stirring the fur on his face. 

He pulls himself up one more time and throws one foreleg across her shoulder. Burying his face in her fur, Swiftpaw has just enough clarity left to make sure he doesn’t crush her windpipe and cut off what’s left of her meager air before he succumbs to the darkness again.

-0-0-0-

The next time Swiftpaw struggles back into the waking world, the air smells fresher, cleaner, though his mouth still tastes like blood and bile and dog. 

He opens his eyes. 

He’s in the medicine den. More importantly, he’s not with Brightpaw anymore.

Swiftpaw manages to lift his head a bit, croaks out, “Brightpaw?” The words burn, and they're barely louder than a whisper, but Cinderpelt’s face appears in front of his almost immediately. 

“Swiftpaw! Thank StarClan, you’re awake!” she mews. 

“Cinderpelt? Where’s Brightpaw?” Swiftpaw rasped, but the medicine cat doesn’t seem to hear him. She’s already ducking away.

She returns in a moment holding some dripping moss that she lays in front of Swiftpaw. “Here. You’ve been asleep for two days, you’re probably thirsty.”

And Swiftpaw realizes that he _is_ , so he spares a moment to lick at the moss, swishes water clumsily in his mouth and spits. It’s colored a dull pink, and the blood taste isn't quite so strong in his mouth anymore. Swiftpaw gets another drink, swallowing this time, and Cinderpelt brings more soaked moss.

It’s several minutes of licking pathetically for water before Swiftpaw stops feeling like there was a drought inside of him, and he nudges Cinderpelt’s next offering away gently. “Where’s Brightpaw?”

Cinderpelt’s eyes go dark and worried. “In her nest, behind you a bit. _Don’t_ try to look, Swiftpaw, you did more than enough damage already dragging yourself through the forest to her.”

Swiftpaw falls clumsily back down from where he’d tried to scramble and see Brightpaw. The itch is still there, though, the burning need to see her, to know she’s alright. 

“She’s doing fine,” Cinderpelt continues. “Woke up a pawful of times the last couple days, never for more than a few seconds, and finally woke up and ate some prey yesterday. Cloudtail’s been here day and night for her—he’s sleeping by her nest now, actually. It’s just past dawn.” 

Now Swiftpaw _really_ wants to turn around and look at them. Cloudtail? Cloudtail is here? By Brightpaw’s side, day and night, like he _deserves_ that. Swiftpaw doesn’t know exactly where the rage comes from or why it’s directed at Cloudtail, but it burns hot and all-consuming in his belly. If Cloudtail hadn’t been made into a warrior, _none_ of this would’ve happened. If he’d been a better warrior, he would’ve noticed them sneaking out and stopped them. He doesn’t get to mope beside Brightpaw now. He wasn’t there for her, He didn’t have to try to defend her against a dozen savage dogs, he didn’t get dragged from a tree, unable to do anything, nothing in the world but pain and dogs growling and Brightpaw _screaming_ -

“Cinderpelt?”

Swiftpaw jolts back to himself violently. Dimly, he’s aware that he’s breathing hard. Cinderpelt is crouched in front of him, clearly torn between answering the voice at the front of the den and staying with him. He meets her eyes and nods, slowly. Cinderpelt hesitates again and stands up.

The voice comes again and Swiftpaw is instantly at attention. 

“Cinderpelt? Hello? I’m back from dawn patrol, is….is everything okay?”

 _Longtail._ Longtail’s here. “Longtail, I was just going to come get you, it’s-“

“Swiftpaw,” Longtail interrupts. “Is he—is he okay?”

Swiftpaw lifts his head again, forces himself to speak as loudly as he can. “Longtail.” 

His voice cracks in the middle and it’s barely any louder than before, but Longtail darts around Cinderpelt’s body in a flash and stops dead. 

“Swiftpaw,” he breathes, and then he’s there. 

Longtail wraps himself around Swiftpaw with a gentleness Swiftpaw never even thought him capable of, except for the part where he presses his nose hard into Swiftpaw’s fur, carefully avoiding his wounds. It hurts a bit, nonetheless, but Swiftpaw can’t be bothered to care as he pushes his own face into Longtail’s neck as best he can. 

“Swiftpaw, thank StarClan,” Longtail whispers, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, this never should have happened, I’m sorry.”

And Swiftpaw apologizes too, his words muffled in his mentor’s fur, “I’m sorry, Longtail, it was stupid, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_.”

He can’t even imagine it. He loves Longtail, of course he does, his mentor who’s trained him for moons and moons, and he knows Longtail loves him too. He thinks about his mentor combing the forest calling for him, finally finding him in the clearing. A bloody, broken, barely-alive ruin. 

“I should’ve been there,” Longtail says fiercely. “I should’ve been _here_ , Swiftpaw, I swear, Fireheart talked me into one dawn patrol, I never should have gone, I wanted to be here when you—in case-“

Swiftpaw _aches._ “It’s not your fault,” he says, as vehemently as he can. “It was my choice, my idea, I made Brightpaw come along, it was all _me_.”

Longtail doesn’t respond, really, but his tail curls tighter around Swiftpaw and the tension in his body ratchets up. Before either of them get a chance to say anything more, Cinderpelt clears her throat. 

“I went to fetch Fireheart and Bluestar. They wanted to know when you were awake. I tried to tell them to give you a moment, but, well. They’re heading over now.”

Swiftpaw recognizes it for what it is: a warning to pull themselves together a bit. He doesn't think anyone in the Clan could blame him or Longtail for the display, but he’s still glad for the chance to at least appear like he has some control. 

Longtail extracts himself from Swiftpaw enough to nod, but doesn’t move from where he’s curled around his apprentice. 

“Hey,” Swiftpaw whispers, in the bare seconds before their leader and deputy arrive, “Is...is Brightpaw okay?”

Longtail looks away quickly. “It, uh...depends on what definition of _okay_ you’re working with there, bud.”

That’s when Swiftpaw knows it’s bad. 

“Fireheart, Bluestar,” Cinderpelt says in greeting. Swiftpaw turns his head, but whatever energy possessed him when he saw Longtail is gone now, and he’s forced the res it on his forepaws. 

“Swiftpaw,” Fireheart says warmly. “How are you feeling?” 

Swiftpaw flicks an ear nonchalantly. “Okay.” Longtail flicks him with his tail and Swiftpaw can feel his mentor’s dirty look. He looks down. “It hurts a lot,” he admits quietly.

Fireheart nods and his eyes go over Swiftpaw to something behind him. “Cloudtail, good you’re awake. Is Brightpaw-?”

“She’s sleeping,” Cloudtail says, not gently. There’s a quiet sound Swiftpaw barely hears, and the warrior adds, “Well, she _was._ Hey, Brightpaw? You awake?”

Another noise, louder this time, then a mumbled, “Maybe.” 

Rage churned in Swiftpaw’s belly again. He pictures Cloudtail curled around Brightpaw, protecting her from the waking world, like he had any right when he _wasn’t there_. A small voice in the back of his mind told him he wasn’t being fair, but he could barely hear it over the rushing sound of blood in his ears. Longtail’s tongue rasped gently over the back of his neck, the combination of comfort and stinging pain where his skin pulled around his wounds bringing Swiftpaw back to the medicine den. Fireheart was speaking.

“-and I think it’s well past time these two be made warriors.” Fireheart finished firmly. 

Beside him, Bluestar was cold, and when she looked down at him Swiftpaw saw her eyes were clouded. A jolt of icy fear ripped down his spine at that as she turned a glare on her deputy.

“You want the traitors to have their warrior names?” she snarled. Swiftpaw flinched. “Fine.” She stalked over to Brightheart, and Swiftpaw craned his neck as much as he could, only managing to see Bluestar’s back, a flash of ginger and white between her legs. 

“This one shall be known as Lostface,” Bluestar said. “A reminder that StarClan abandoned them both in their hour of need. That StarClan has abandoned us all.” 

For a long heartbeat the den was silent. Swiftpaw tried to comprehend it. Brightpaw. Lostface. Lostface. Bluestar _couldn’t_ , not after everything they’d done, after it was _her fault_ , her decision to make Cloudtail a warrior and ignore the two of them. Her cold eyes and her cruel snarl, condemning them for the path she forced them to take. How _dare_ she? Swiftpaw flexes the claws on his left paw and wishes that he could walk, that he could stand up, that there was enough of him left to even swipe at Bluestar’s leg. He is on fire, burning up inside. He’s never wanted anything so badly in his life as much as he wants to tear his leader apart. 

He would. In that moment, if he had half a chance, Swiftpaw would tear out her eyes and rip off her ears, sever her tail and cut her back to ribbons. There is nothing but hatred in every atom of his body. If it meant the rest of his days as a warrior, if it meant his _life_ , he would do it. But not even the endless fire consuming him from the inside out is strong enough to lend Swiftpaw his legs.

“Bluestar,” Fireheart says quietly. “You should reconsider-“ 

“Lostface?” Cloudtail blurts, finding his voice at last. “That...that’s an insult! Bluestar, you _can’t_ -“

“I can, and I have. StarClan can have her as Lostface, or they can not have her at all.”

Brightpaw— _Lostface_ —is silent. Swiftpaw is more desperate than ever to see her face. Bluestar stalks away from her and comes to stand in front of Swiftpaw. 

“This one,” she begins, and Swiftpaw’s body rumbles in a quiet growl that burns. He is not a _this one_ , he is Swiftpaw, he is a warrior, he is going to tear Bluestar apart. “This one shall be known as Dogscar, a reminder of his mistakes, his disobedience, and our _noble_ ancestors who would not save him.”

Swiftpaw’s vision whites out. “How _dare_ you?” he howls. “You can’t do this to her! To _us_ ! This is all your fault! _This is all your fault_!”

Somewhere, in his body, Swiftpaw is aware that he is in agony, is aware of voices around him calling his name, is aware of what he is saying and doing and that it will not end well. The Swiftpaw he is now, though, is made of fire, and he will not stop. 

His own voice sounds far away when he screams, “ _I’m going to kill you!_ ” He might say it more than once, or maybe the echo is all in his head. He doesn’t think it matters. He doesn’t intend to stop.

Wide, cloudy blue eyes swim into his vision. Swiftpaw feels his claws catch in fur, sinks his teeth in, and this time the blood that fills his mouth is not his own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism is welcome, and comments and kudos help me write faster!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swiftpaw faces some consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two!! I’m not completely happy with this, but, an updates an update. Also, I have been typing this entire fic thus far on my phone (this chapter was written entirely during a very long car ride) so, sorry for that. Anyway, back to your regularly scheduled Swiftpaw angst-fest!

“-scar. Dogscar. Swiftpaw!”

He opens his eyes. Everything hurts. 

Longtail is crouched in front of him, blue eyes wide. “Are you…” his eyes flick away, just for a second, “back?”

“Back?” Swiftpaw echoes. Was he gone?

“You, uh…” Longtail lets the sentence trail off, clearly lost for words.

“Attacked Bluestar,” Cinderpelt says from somewhere behind him. “Tore open just about every single one of your wounds. Scared every cat half to death.”

She starts applying a poultice to his back. The pressure and the herbs sting, and Swiftpaw hisses. 

“I...I’m sorry?” he tries. It hurts worse to talk than before. 

Longtail touches his nose to Swiftpaw’s ear. “Don’t be sorry. To me, anyway. I had half a mind to give her a good clawing, myself.” 

“Me, too,” Cloudtail pipes up. 

“You still shouldn’t have tried to  _ kill _ her,” Cinderpelt says. “What were you thinking?”

Swiftpaw shakes his head a little. He doesn’t remember much of it. Just...being angry. “I didn’t want to kill her. I don’t think.” He can’t imagine wanting to kill Bluestar, in any real, solid way. 

“You bit her chest and clawed up her flanks pretty badly,” Cinderpelt informs him. “And you did say you were going to kill her.”

“Multiple times, actually,” adds Longtail quietly. 

“I don’t...I don’t remember that,” Swiftpaw says. “I hate her. But I don’t...I don’t want to  _ kill _ her.” He’s never killed anyone before. And even if he hates Bluestar—the anger simmers in him even thinking about it,  _ her fault her fault _ —he wouldn’t kill her. He wouldn’t. 

Warriors don’t kill. Not like that.

“Swiftpaw?” Longtail asks softly. “Are you okay?”

He nearly laughs. Nothing about this is  _ okay _ . He’s starting to doubt it will ever be okay again. 

“She named us,” he says quietly. It’s not an answer, except that it is. “Lostface. Dogscar. You have to call me that now. Right?”

Longtail’s eyes go hard. “Not if I can help it. You’ll always be Swiftpaw to me, no matter what Bluestar says.”

Swift—Dogscar shakes his head. “This is my name now. I might as well get used to it.” 

“If that’s what you want.”

Dogscar closes his eyes. “It is.”

-0-0-0-

Dogscar jerks awake, panting in his nest while his heartbeat slows, sick with the leftover sensation of falling. He has the horrible feeling that he’s just woken from a nightmare, but he can’t remember anything. Just darkness, and voices…

_ Pack, pack, kill, kill. _

Cloudtail’s hushed whispers on the other side of the den chase the howling voices away, and Dogscar shifts in his nest to peer back at him. 

“Brightpaw! Brightpaw, wake up, c’mon, please…”

Underneath that, Dogscar can hear her whimpering. He strains, and catches some words. 

“Pack, pack,” Brightpaw—Lostface?—says and she twists in her nest. “Kill, kill.”

“It’s not real,” Cloudtail is saying, “Brightpaw, wake up, it’s just a dream-“

“Don’t say that,” Dogscar snaps, before he can think about it.

Cloudtail glares at him. “What, don’t try to help her when she’s having a nightmare?”

Dogscar growls. “Don’t  _ lie  _ to her. And stop calling her that. Bluestar renamed us. We’re Dogscar and Lostface now.”

“Just because you decided to punish yourself doesn’t mean you get to inflict it on her, too!” Cloudtail snaps, his voice rising sharply. “I’ll call  _ Brightpaw  _ whatever she wants me to call her.”

“Why should you?” Dogscar asks, bitter. He wants, more than anything, to be able to stand for this fight. As it is, he’s a pathetic ruin of a warrior too weak to even move, and Cloudtail is perfectly healthy. “What gives you the right to care about her? You couldn’t stop us that night. You didn’t fight by her side.”

Cloudtail’s eyes are icy when he responds. “I didn’t drag her into a death trap just to prove something, either. Don’t pin this on me when you know, if it wasn’t for you, she wouldn’t be here. She adores you, you know. Haveyou ever heard the way she talks about you? You took all the trust she had for you and used it to make her follow along with your stupid plan. Maybe Bluestar should have made you warriors. Maybe I should have been a better guard. But  _ you  _ are the one who refused to stop. That’s why she’s here, nothing else. This is  _ your fault _ .”

Dogscar is faintly aware that he is trembling. Cloudtail glares at him for another moment and then turns back to Lostface. Brightpaw. Dogscar doesn’t know anymore. His gut is roiling with Cloudtail’s accusations,  _ your fault your fault your fault  _ ringing in his ears, and he digs his claws into the dirt to stop them from flying into the warrior’s white pelt. 

“Swift—Dogscar?” Longtail asks blearily, lifting his head. He’s refusing to leave Dogscar’s side anymore, after he missed him waking up. Dogscar wonders how much of it has to do with the way he attacked Bluestar. He wonders if Longtail blames him for everything, too. 

“Is everything okay? You’re...you’re shaking,” Longtail whispers, throwing a glance over his shoulder at Cinderpelt’s sleeping form. 

“Fine,” Dogscar growls. 

“Are you sure? You say things in your sleep, sometimes, and I’m...I’m worried about you, Dogscar-“

Longtail stumbles slightly over the new name and Dogscar twists in his nest, putting as much space between himself and his mentor as possible. 

“I said I’m  _ fine _ , Longtail,” he snaps, and whatever small, rational part of him that still exists is screaming  _ stop, stop _ , “What difference does it make to you, anyway?”

“Swif— _ Dogscar,  _ I’m your mentor-“

“ _ Stop calling me that _ !” Dogscar screeches. “You don’t  _ care _ , you just feel guilty, because maybe if you’d been a better mentor you’d have  _ tried  _ to talk to Bluestar instead of following her blind like every other cat in this Clan!”

Longtail stares at him. He opens his mouth, closes it. His eyes go hard, glittering with something Dogscar can’t place. “If that’s what you believe, then fine. As for your name, you can punish yourself as much as you want and I can’t stop you, but I won’t stick around and let you take this out on me, too.”

He stands to leave, and Dogscar throws one last barb. “You know I’m right. You know none of this would’ve happened if it wasn’t for you.” 

Longtail goes still, only the end of his tail swishing slightly. “This isn’t my fault, Dogscar,” he says finally. “And it isn’t yours, either. You didn’t deserve what happened, but the blame shouldn’t be pinned on  _ any  _ cat here.”

Dogscar shoots a last wordless hiss at Longtail’s retreating form, for lack of a better retort. He turns around and glares at Cloudtail, who is very carefully watching Brightpaw sleep. Dogscar glares at him until Cloudtail glances up again, then hisses and turns his back. He tries to ignore the cold spot behind him as he closes his eyes and feigns sleep. 

-0-0-0-

When Dogscar wakes up—or rather, pretends to, since he never did go back to sleep—it’s to a calm quiet in the den. A careful look around finds Brightpaw and Cloudtail asleep, and Cinderpelt closer to the front of the den, sorting herbs. His gaze goes to her forepaws where she hooks wilted leaves in her claws and inspects them, then he drifts back to her hind legs. One of them is mangled and crooked, resting only lightly on the ground. 

As if she feels his eyes on her, Cinderpelt looks up. “S—Dogscar. You’re awake. Did you sleep alright? I was going to change your dressings in a minute, once I finish here.”

“I’m fine,” Dogscar says. 

Cinderpelt hums, noncommittal, and finishes sorting out her last few leaves. As she pulls marigold leaves and cobwebs from her stores, she says, “I noticed Longtail wasn’t here this morning. Would you know anything about that?”

It’s a casual, gently leading question, a mother to a misbehaved kit. Dogscar suppresses a growl, but he can’t stop his ears pinning back against his head. 

“Longtail left last night. He won’t be back. You oughta be happy about that, one less warrior getting in your way.”

Cinderpelt starts to peel away his old dressings, starting with the smallest wounds. “I won’t pretend I’m happy about Longtail leaving. He cares about you a lot, you know. Is there any special reason he left?”

_ Again _ , she asks it like she already knows the answer. Dogscar grits his teeth. “No.”

Cinderpelt just hums and warns, “I’m coming to your back now. This one’s messy, it might hurt.”

She starts gently peeling away the old mess of poultices and cobwebs, and Dogscar feeling the sharp, hot sting of a peeling scab just before blood runs down his back. 

“ _ Ow _ ,” he hisses, just as Cinderpelt mutters a curse under her breath and apologizes, “Sorry, I’ve never treated a wound this bad before, especially not without Yellowfang.”

“For  _ StarClan’s sake, _ ” he growls. “You couldn’t make it as a warrior and it turns out you’re a terrible medicine cat, too.”

Cinderpelt is very still behind him for a long moment before she says, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that, because you’re hurting. But I’ll ask you not to say that to me again.”

“Why won’t you just  _ fight back _ ? All this time holed up with herbs and sick cats has made you a pushover.  _ I’ll ask you not to say that again _ . No wonder you couldn’t be a warrior.”

“Dogscar, that is _ enough _ ,” Cinderpelt says, and the sudden hard edge to her voice makes him fall silent. “Don’t pretend you know anything about my life or what I can and cannot do. If you want to be cruel, that’s fine. It’s my mandate to heal cats, not just the ones I like.”

“So you just have to take it, huh?” Dogscar asks. 

Cinderpelt gently pulls away the last of his old dressings and starts to press the new ones in. It’s a long moment before she responds. 

“I have to do my best to heal you, Dogscar. In any way I can. The way things have been going, you’re going to need at least one cat still behind you.”

For the second time in less than a day, Dogscar has nothing he can say. He settles for a low hiss and lashes what remains of his tail. Cinderpelt finishes her work and comes to stand in front of him. She places her scarred leg right in front of him, nods to the herbs slathered over his own hind leg, where the dogs dragged him from the tree. 

“And, Dogscar?” she says. “Don’t say anything about my leg when you can’t use yours, either.” 

Fireheart chooses that moment to poke his head into the entrance of the medicine den. “Cinderpelt?”

She shoots Dogscar an unreadable look and turns around. “Hey, Fireheart. Is Bluestar okay?”

He nods. “I did what you told me, and the bleeding stopped pretty soon. She’s…agitated, this morning, but fine.”

“I’ll see to her, now that these two are taken care of,” Cinderpelt says, already gathering some more herbs and cobwebs up in a large leaf. “If you don’t mind watching that one?”

There’s a lightness to her voice when she says it, a world away from Bluestar’s cold, clouded eyes, but Dogscar hears the words just the same.  _ That one.  _ He bares his teeth in his worst growl, the same he gave to every one of the dogs he fought. Fireheart steps smoothly in front of Cinderpelt. 

“Dogscar,” he says, his voice a warning.

Dogscar turns his head away, resting it on his paws. Cinderpelt and Fireheart exchange words too softly for him to hear, and then he can just make out her uneven gait padding away. 

“How are you feeling?” Fireheart asks, and it’s stiff, laced with half a dozen undertones Dogscar can’t process. 

“ _ Fine _ ,” Dogscar says. He wants nothing more than for cats to stop asking him that question. “How’s Bluestar?” Not that he cares, really, but there’s a sort of morbid curiosity about what he did to his own leader. 

Fireheart clears his throat. “She’s alright. The bite on her chest wasn’t too deep, and the scratches didn’t hit anything important.”

“I’m in big trouble though, aren’t I? Warrior status revoked, sent to the elders den, exiled, killed? What’s the punishment?”

Dogscar is still facing away, so he can’t tell, but it feels like Fireheart is looking at him, aghast. “You aren’t going to be  _ killed _ , Dogscar,” he says, and he sounds a bit horrified at the prospect.

Dogscar turns around again. “Why not? I tried to kill Bluestar. Life for a life, right? Isn’t that how it should work?”

“ _ No, _ ” Fireheart says vehemently. “Warriors don’t kill.”

“I almost did,” Dogscar says. “I bet you’d like it if I was exiled, huh? One less problem for the rest of the Clan to shoulder. Especially after everything I did.”

Fireheart shakes his head. “I would never exile you. I can’t say what Bluestar is thinking, but I wouldn’t, Dogscar. I know you’re struggling.”

Dogscar snarls at him. “Oh, I’m  _ struggling _ , huh? I’m struggling? Who’s fault is that, huh, Fireheart?”

“No one’s.” The deputy won’t meet his eyes.

“No one’s? Not even Bluestar’s deputy, who was supposed to have a say in what happens in the Clan, who  _ sent me away from that battle  _ and ruined my chances of being a warrior? Who stood there while Bluestar passed all of us over? While she renamed us?”

“Dogscar, you need to stop,” Fireheart says firmly. “I’m sorry for everything that happened. I tried to help you, I really did, but the Clan leader’s word is law. There’s only so much I can do.”

“Then you’re a coward,” Dogscar spits, “or a fool. And this is your fault.”

Fireheart dipped his head stiffly. “Cinderpelt will be back soon. I have more important things to attend to.”

Dogscar watches him go, and then slowly becomes aware of a prickling at his back. He turns around. Brightpaw is staring at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! As before, constructive criticism is welcome (especially about how the characters are coming across—this is my first time writing Warriors fic in the canon universe), and comments and kudos are very much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swiftpaw decides he wants to live like a WindClan tunneler and starts digging himself a hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload! I’ve been on vacation this week and this chapter was A Struggle to write, so it took way longer than anticipated. I did manage to start merging with the canon timeline a little, though, so that’s happening.   
> (Also, I’m milking the fact that Swiftie is Goldenflower’s son, and therefore Bramble/Tawny’s half brother, for all it’s worth bc I would have loved to see them interact in the books)

“Swiftpaw?” Brightpaw asks quietly. 

A quick glance shows that Cloudtail is still asleep beside her, because of course he is. Dogscar flicks his ears back—what’s left of them, anyway. The dogs ripped them to shreds. Just another scar for his collection.

“You can’t call me that anymore.”

She frowns. “You….you really want to be Dogscar?” 

Dogscar looks away. It’s not about what he  _ wants _ , it’s about what he’s  _ done _ . Dogscar, for his mistakes. It’s his punishment. He and Bluestar can agree on one thing, at least. 

“It’s my name,” he says at last.

“You’ll….you’ll still call me Brightpaw, though, right?” She sounds unsure. Afraid. It’s exactly the tone of voice she had when they were creeping through the forest searching for monsters. “At least...when we’re alone?” 

Dogscar has only denied Brightpaw one thing when she asked like that. He won’t do it again.

_ Swiftpaw, can we go back to camp? Something feels wrong. I’m scared. _

_ Come on, Brightpaw, if we do this, we’re warriors. We have to keep going.  _

“Yeah. Sure, Brightpaw. Whatever.” 

She shifts a little in her nest and asks, “Did you mean what you said to Fireheart?”

Dogscar huffs, not a laugh. “Which part?”

“Any of it. All of it. Swif—Dogscar, you can’t mean that. You can’t blame yourself, or him, or any cat.”

He looks at her, and her eyes— _ eye _ , because she only has the one, now—is big and imploring, but he can’t agree with her this time.

“Yes,” he says, “I can. And I will. What do you care what I think, anyway?” He turns around, settling his head on his forepaws. “Doesn’t change anything.”

“Dogscar, it wasn’t your fault-“

“It is  _ my fault! _ ” Dogscar roars, spinning back around and half rising into a crouch. Every hair along his spine is raised, and somewhere along his back a torn-open wound drips fresh blood. His claws make furrows in the earth as his lips pull back from his teeth. 

He is unhinged. Dangerous. Like he is facing down the pack again. Except this time, it’s just Brightpaw, staring at him with her one ear pinned flat and her one eye huge with fear. Every inch of her body is pressed into the dirt. For just a moment, they stand like that, Dogscar’s chest heaving, Brightpaw frozen. 

Dogscar wonders if this is what she’d looked like to the dogs. 

He sits back down. 

“I…” No words come. He looks down at his paws. His claws are still digging into the earth. Quickly, he sheaths them, and steals a glance back up at Brightpaw.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t…I wouldn’t hurt you, Brightpaw.”

“Wouldn’t you?” she asks, and her eye is a black pit, her pupil blown wide. “You hurt Bluestar. You’ve fought with every cat who’s talked to you, Dogscar, what am I meant to think?”

He looks down at his paws. “I wouldn’t hurt  _ you _ , Brightpaw. The rest of them—“

“You blame them,” she says. “Whatever you say about it being your fault, you blame every other cat in the Clan for it, don’t you?”

Dogscar can’t quite keep the snarl from his voice when he replies, “Yeah, and why shouldn’t I? If any cat had stepped up, if any of them had done  _ anything _ , if they weren’t all so terrified to talk back to Bluestar, we would be warriors now! Proper ones, not Dogscar and Lostface,  _ real warriors _ . So yeah, I blame them all. And I blame myself. I’m talented that way; can be angry at lots of cats at once.”

“Even me? Even when I could have stopped it, to?”

“You couldn’t. I practically dragged you to Snakerocks. You couldn’t have just...left me there. Alone.”

He risks a glance back up. Brightpaw isn’t looking at him anymore. “Maybe,” she admits. “We’ll never know. And...and what does it matter, anyway, huh Swiftp—Dogscar? We’re here now. We’re alive.”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, turning towards the den wall and laying his head on his paws again. “And at what cost?”

“An eye, a couple of ears, maybe.” Cinderpelt’s voice cuts in. “Some time while you heal.”

Dogscar turns to look at her. She’s standing in the entrance to the den, but it’s impossible to know how long she’s been there.

“It sounds simple when you put it like that,” Brightpaw says quietly, and for the first time the bitterness creeps into her voice. 

Cinderpelt gives a one-shouldered shrug and moves further into the den. “I’ve had a lot of time to come to terms with my cost.” She gives her leg a rueful glance. “You can do the same, with time.  _ Both  _ of you.” 

Dogscar scoffs again. “Yeah. Okay. So, what, we both heal up and retire to the medicine den with you, now?”

“That’s not what I said. If that’s what you decide you want, then sure. If you want to be warriors, then you can be warriors.”

“Even me?” Brightpaw asks. “With my eye?”

“If Bluestar or Fireheart has a problem with it, I’ll train you myself.” Cinderpelt says. 

She pads past Dogscar to Brightpaw’s nest. He turns to watch her, can just see where her smile curls fondly over her face when she looks down at Cloudtail, who’s somehow managed to stay asleep this whole time. 

“Late night?” she asks. Cloudtail shifts in his sleep and makes a soft sound, and the dead part of Dogscar hopes he’s having a nightmare. 

“Maybe,” Brightpaw replies. “I...I have nightmares, and I think I wake him up sometimes.”

Cinderpelt hums. “I know about nightmares. Do you remember them, much? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“A little.” Brightpaw frowns towards the ground. “I remember the pack...the things they said...I remember Swiftpaw—er, um, Dogscar—fighting.”

She looks up, her eye meeting his, and Dogscar gets the feeling of being caught eavesdropping, even though this started as a group conversation. Not his fault Cinderpelt decided to ignore him. 

Or, well, maybe it is. He thinks about everything he spat at her and thinks that he ought to be sorry, but he can’t tell if that’s the same as actual remorse. 

Brightpaw is still staring at him, and slowly she says, “I remember Dogscar fighting like all of LionClan against the dogs.” She looks back at Cinderpelt and adds, “Sometimes I remember when one of them tore my face apart, but...but not always.”

Dogscar looks away again. He doesn’t remember his own nightmares, not really. Just flashes of black and brown and red, residual pain mixed with terror when he jerks awake. He doesn’t remember much of the battle, either, just a glimpse of the sky as he was dragged from a tree, gleaming fangs, Brightpaw, bloody, as she was tossed like a piece of crowfood across the clearing. He remembers darting in front of her, the clearest thing in his head; one glancing look at her face, their eyes meeting, and then whirling around to meet the open maw of one of the hounds. Staring down death. 

“Do...will they ever go away?” Brightpaw asks, barely more than a whisper. Dogscar looks back up.

Cinderpelt sighs. “They’ll get better. I used to have dreams of the monster that hurt me. They went away for the most part, with some time.”

“Yeah,” Brightpaw murmurs, unconvinced.

Dogscar turns around completely this time, staring out the entrance of the den to the camp. Longtail is sitting with some of the other warriors near the fresh-kill pile. Before Dogscar has a chance to look away, he glances up, towards the den, and their eyes meet again. Longtail’s face flickered through a complicated series of emotions before he settled on something sad and aching. Dogscar jerked away and curled up in his nest. 

Cinderpelt could be right—the nightmares could pass, with time. But the scars he’d gotten, and the ones he’d given, they wouldn’t heal the same way.

-0-0-0-

The day passes and the next one dawns. Dogscar is lying in his nest near sunhigh, staring at the bit of blue sky he can see outside and pointedly not listening to Brightpaw and Cloudtail talking quietly behind him. Cinderpelt is off tending to Bluestar. Another thing Dogscar is trying not to think about. 

As if he summoned her with his not-thoughts, Cinderpelt hurries into the den. She tucks a few leftover herbs back into her stores and turns to the rest of them.

“Brightpaw, Dogscar, how do you feel about a little walk?” she asks. “Tawnykit and Bramblekit are going to be having their apprentice ceremony today.”

Dogscar eyes the space between Cinderpelt’s legs. He can just see the nursery, Bramblekit and Tawnykit and Goldenflower getting ready. 

“Dogscar, you’re their brother, I thought you’d be excited,” Cinderpelt adds. 

He should be excited. He remembers teaching Tawnykit to pounce, Bramblekit to stalk prey. He used to challenge them to races and let them win. Fireheart—lots of cats, really—looked at them and saw Tigerstar. Especially Bramblekit. Dogscar remembers swearing that no cat would pass judgement on his siblings because of who their father was. He wanted them to have the chance to be good warriors. Great warriors.

But he doesn’t feel it so much anymore. When he’s not itching all over with the urge to claw every cat around him to pieces, he doesn’t feel much of anything. 

“I’ll go!” Brightpaw says finally, just to break the quiet. 

Dogscar nods along with her and starts to struggle to his paws. Aside from attacking Bluestar and the day before, when he’d half-stood to fight with Brightpaw, he hasn’t been on his paws in a while. His wounds pull and his legs shake, and while Cloudtail is gently helping Brightpaw up Cinderpelt just hovers near him. He’s not sure if he wants her help or wants her to leave. Maybe both. 

Bluestar is calling the Clan meeting just as he staggers into the sun. Most of the attention that would normally go to the almost-apprentices flies to Dogscar and Brightpaw, and he realizes that this is the first time they’ve been outside the medicine den, their wounds on full display.

Brightpaw turns her face toward Cloudtail, hiding the worst of the damage. Dogscar just lowers his head and bares his teeth. They know his name. They know what it means.

Cinderpelt blocks them from going more than ten steps away from the den, so they’re left sitting a few tail-lengths from the crowd as Bramblekit and Tawnykit go up to the Highledge. 

Dogscar doesn’t pay much attention as the ceremony goes on. He watches Bluestar, who doesn’t look like her injuries are giving her much trouble. He watches Fireheart, who takes Bramblekit—Bramblepaw—as his apprentice. Dogscar growls when they touch noses. Of course Fireheart gets another apprentice when his last was made a warrior days ago. 

He shouts their new names with the rest of the Clan when the time comes, and turns to limp back into the medicine den before anyone tries to approach him.

It doesn’t work. Bramblepaw breaks free of the crowd remarkably fast, and Tawnypaw is hot on his heels. “Swiftpaw! Swiftpaw! We’re apprentices now!” Bramblepaw cries.

“I’m a warrior now, Bramblepaw,” Dogscar tells him. He doesn’t look at either of the young cats. “My name is Dogscar now.”

“O-Oh,” Bramblepaw says. “Mama said you got hurt real bad fightin’ some dogs.”

Tawnypaw pipes up, “Yeah! And that we couldn’t visit you yet ‘cause you were still healing, but you’re out in camp now, so you’re better, right?”

Dogscar walks back toward the medicine den. “No, Tawnypaw. I’m not better. I just came for your ceremony. You two should go back to your mentors.”

He ducks back into the den before they can say another word. Brightpaw cuts him off, getting between him and his nest.

“What was that?” she demands. “I thought you loved Tawnypaw and Bramblepaw. You can’t just brush them off like that.”

“Leave me alone.” He tries to walk around her.

Brightpaw moves with him so they’re practically nose-to-nose. “What’s  _ wrong _ with you?” she asks, and her eyes are wet. “You aren’t the same cat you used to be.”

“I said  _ drop it _ ,” Dogscar growls, but the words are already ringing in his head,  _ what’s wrong with you what’s wrong with you. _ He shoves past her this time, but Cloudtail gets in front of him. It’s starting to look like Dogscar is never getting to his nest. 

“Hey,” Cloudtail barks. “You can’t talk to her like that.”

“I can talk to her any way I want, there’s no law against it.”

“Cloudtail, just leave it,” Brightpaw says, touching her nose to the white tom’s shoulder. He glares at Dogscar for another moment and turns away, following Brightpaw back to their nest. Of course.

“If you’re all done,” Cinderpelt says from the front. Cloudtail and Brightpaw turn with matching guilty expressions. Dogscar takes his time sitting in his nest before he looks at the medicine cat.

“Brightpaw, Dogscar, I think you two handled walking pretty well. You can start leaving the medicine den for short stretches of time now, and if it goes well, light training in a few days to get your strength back up.” 

Dogscar grunts his acknowledgment. He should be excited; he can leave the den now and start training again soon, his little siblings are apprentices, everything is  _ good _ . But as the leftover anger drains from his body, all that’s left is emptiness and the vague desire to sleep. 

He doesn’t get to, though, because just as he settles his head on his paws a shadow falls across the den. Dogscar looks up, gets as far as achingly familiar golden forelegs. Stops.

“Goldenflower,” someone says. It might be him. He’s a little busy trying to figure out how to react, because, well. 

He hasn’t seen Goldenflower in days. Hasn’t  _ really _ talked to her in moons. Too busy trying to be a warrior. It hits him then, while he stares at his mother’s paws, that if he had died, his last words to her would have been left as something idiotic, some excuse thrown over his shoulder as he raced to his next training session or another patrol. 

Goldenflower crouches a little, forcing him to look at her face. Her eyes are pools of saltwater. “Swiftpaw,” she whispers. “Son.”

Dogscar closes his eyes as his own vision goes watery. “That’s not my  _ name  _ anymore,” he hisses, fierce and wet. 

“I gave you that name,” Goldenflower replies, and her voice is shaking, but it’s still her listen-to-your-mother voice, and Dogscar opens his eyes. “You were so  _ fast _ , the first to do everything, and I wanted you to carry that with you. The swiftest cat in the Clans.”

“Stop,” Dogscar growls. He clenches his teeth and digs his claws into the earth and turns his face away from Goldenflower. It’s too  _ much _ . It’s too much and he can’t  _ have _ any of it anymore. 

“No,” Goldenflower says, but gently. “ _ Please _ , son, please don’t do this to yourself. This doesn’t have to define you. You can be Swiftpaw again.”

“I can’t,” he whispers. Every muscle in his body is pulled taught and trembling with the effort of holding himself still. He is white-hot and dangerous and it’s exactly the same sick feeling he got when Bluestar gave him his new name. He sinks his claws deeper into the earth.

He will not attack Goldenflower.  _ He will not hurt his mother _ .

“You  _ can _ , I promise you. This doesn’t have to change anything. You’re still my son, you’re still so  _ brave _ , you’re still Swiftpaw-“

“ _ Stop calling me that _ !”

When Dogscar can see again—he’s not sure if he closed his eyes or if his vision just whited out—he’s on his feet, breathing hard, and Cloudtail is in front of him, snarling. Cinderpelt is behind the white tom, and what Dogscar can see of her face looks deeply worried. Goldenflower, next to the medicine cat, is looking right at him. Her eyes are wide, wide, wide.

There’s a slash leaking blood on her cheek.

Dogscar is the lowest thing in the world. The part of him that’s still a kit wants to run to his mother’s thick, soft fur and bury himself in it and let her make it all okay. But he’s not a kit anymore. He doesn’t get to have things like that. 

He stabs the kit inside of him with one last swift, sure blow, voice as cold and cruel as ice.

“I told you to stop.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boy just can’t stop, can he?
> 
> Thank you for reading! As always, constructive feedback is welcome, and comments and kudos make my day!


	4. Chapter 4

Goldenflower doesn’t stop staring at him, the exact same unreadable expression on her face, the entire time Cinderpelt is putting cobwebs on her cheek. When the medicine cat gently nudges her from the den, along with a quiet reminder to keep the cut clean and come back right away if she thinks it’s infected, Goldenflower tears her eyes away like it physically pains her. 

Dogscar looks down, and find himself meeting Cloudtail’s gaze. The warrior looks nothing short of disgusted with him. Dogscar wants to say he feels the same way. 

“Cloudtail, Brightpaw,” Cinderpelt says quietly, “why don’t you two go out into the camp for a little bit.”

Cloudtail doesn’t even glance away from Dogscar when he protests, “But Brightpaw-“

“Most of Brightpaw’s injuries were to her face, and she’s been resting for several days now. If she takes it easy she should be okay. Go get some fresh-kill, talk to your Clanmates.”

Cloudtail’s eyes flick toward Brightpaw for one second before he goes back to glaring at Dogscar. 

“ _ Cloudtail _ ,” Cinderpelt warns, and reluctantly, he goes. 

Cinderpelt manages to make sitting look judgemental as the other two cats leave the den. Once they’re well out of earshot, she curls her tail around her paws and says, “Dogscar.”

He stares at the ground. Cinderpelt wants to give him a talk, fine. He has nothing to say for himself.

“You know that if you keep….doing things like this, there’s going to be consequences. You could be facing  _ exile _ , Dogscar. I don’t have to tell you that no cat wants to live with a warrior that could attack them at any time.”

Dogscar looks at the places where he made furrows in the dirt with his claws. Past that, the place where three drops of Goldenflower’s blood are drying on the ground.

“Are you going to say anything, Dogscar? I’m trying to help you, but I can’t very well tell any cat you’re sorry if you  _ aren’t. _ ”

“I am. Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“You didn’t mean to hurt Bluestar, either.”

Dogscar can’t say anything to that.

“She let you do it, if that changes anything,” Cinderpelt adds softly, and he looks up.

“What?”

“She may be a queen now, but Goldenflower has training, and any of us could see that blow coming from miles away. She didn’t even try to move away when you did it. Take from that what you will.”

Dogscar has to close his eyes, then. His mother, his sweet, gentle, loving mother, let him hurt her. He has absolutely no idea what to do with that information, just knows that it twists, sick and hot, inside of his chest. 

After several long moments of silence, Cinderpelt stands and goes to her herb stores. Dogscar opens his eyes, watching her warily. “When I first got hurt, I spent all my time in my nest, feeling sorry for myself. I wanted to be a warrior so  _ badly _ , and there I was, facing the possibility that I could never have that again. Yellowfang pulled me out of my funk with a mix of insults and love, and she taught me to be a medicine cat.”

Cinderpelt’s voice is thick with grief, and Dogscar remembers that it’s only been a little while—not even a half moon—since the fire and Yellowfang’s death. He flicks a tattered ear and shuffles his paws uncomfortably. 

Cinderpelt takes a moment to sort through a pile of wilted leaves before she continues. “And I...I don’t know what I would have done without her there, you know? Probably just kept laying in my nest forever, maybe moved into the elder’s den. Yellowfang helped me. She  _ saved  _ me, when I thought my life was over.”

Dogscar is starting to get an idea of where this is going. 

“And I know, right now...well, I don’t know what you’re thinking exactly, but I imagine the last thing you need is for every cat to abandon you. So I’m not going to leave you, no matter what you say to me, or what you do, because someday, when you get out of your head enough to move on eith your life, you’re going to be a  _ good cat _ . And you deserve that.”

Dogscar doesn’t really know what to say after that little speech. So he just stares at the den wall, silent, until Cinderpelt finally sighs and leaves to tell Cloudtail and Brightpaw they can come back in. 

-0-0-0-

_ Swiftpaw claws his way up a tree, one ear already ripped apart and dripping blood and scratches all over, with no thought in his mind except to escape. Something attaches itself to his back, at first more horrible, crushing pressure than anything, then two dozen points of needle-sharp pain. His claws gouge the bark of the tree as the dogs drag him down, and he screams at the little bit of sky he can see above him as his flesh tears away from his body.  _

_ Somewhere, Brightpaw is screaming his name. Swiftpaw hits the ground and turns to face the dogs. As one, they all speak, “ _ Pack, pack, kill, kill.” 

_ “Not today,” Swiftpaw snarls, and for one instant his mouth splits in a wicked, bloody grin. Despite everything, he’s always loved a fight.  _

_ The dogs grow to the size of bears around him, and the drool dripping from their mouths turns into blood. Far above him, they speak again, and this time it’s his own voice. _

_ “Pack, pack, kill, kill-” _

“Dogscar! Dogscar, wake up!” 

He jerks in his nest, legs scrabbling for purchase in the bracken before he recognizes his surroundings. Cloudtail is half leaning over him, but poised to jump away if need be. Dogscar takes another few seconds to get his breathing under control and slumps in his nest. He makes sure to glare at Cloudtail out of the corner of his eye, still. 

“What do you want.”

Cloudtail reels. “You were having a nightmare? You do that a lot, actually, but this time you were, uh. Loud. And saying things. Like Brightpaw. And it seemed like you were maybe actually scared, so I woke you up.”

Dogscar keeps glaring at him, and Cloudtail’s gaze hardens. “Fine, then, next time I’ll leave you to suffer.”

“Fine,” Dogscar spits. Cloudtail stalks away, deliberately smacking him in the face with his tail as he does. 

-0-0-0-

“Dogscar. I believe I said something yesterday about getting out of your nest? Walking around a bit? Any of that familiar?” Cinderpelt asks.

Dogscar turns over in his nest and refuses to look at her. He doesn’t want to walk around ThunderClan camp, he doesn’t want to see his family, he doesn’t want to do  _ anything _ .

“The faster you get up and moving the faster you can start training,” Cinderpelt adds. Dogscar thinks that the apprentice he was would leap into action at a remark like that, but for the first time in his life he can’t summon the desire to train. To fight again.

He feels Cinderpelt come close to his turned back, watches her shadow fall across the dirt. “Dogscar, so help me, if you don’t get out of this nest I will drag your sorry tail out there myself.”

“Is that the insults part of you trying to be like Yellowfang?” Dogscar asks. Cinderpelt’s shadow flinches.

He gets up gingerly and walks out, making sure to knock his shoulder against Cinderpelt’s as he does. She doesn’t say anything, and Dogscar is left squinting a bit in the sun and itching a bit for a fight.

Cloudtail and Brightpaw are already talking to Fernpaw, Ashpaw, and Thornpaw. The rest of the camp looks normal—a few cats glance his way and linger there, and even though it  _ feels  _ like all eyes are on him, Dogscar is pretty sure they’re not. Longtail isn’t looking at him, but in a way that Dogscar can tell he’s doing it on purpose. Goldenflower is on her side, facing away from him, and as he watches Snowkit clambers over her body. 

Dogscar remembers when he used to do that. He looks away.

There’s no one left for him to talk to, really. He was never close to many of the warriors, and aside from his siblings—who aren’t in the camp, thank StarClan, Dogscar doesn’t even want to think about seeing them yet—he never was close with any of the kits. And he’s not about to go talk to the other apprentices with Cloudtail and Brightpaw right there.

He pads to the fresh-kill pile, feeling oddly like a trespasser in his own Clan. To cover for it, he glares at a couple of the nearest cats and takes a mouse. Then he picks the farthest spot from any other cat that he can and sits down to eat it as viciously as possible. 

“Dogscar?” 

He jerks his head up at the world’s tiniest voice, looking over at the kit who’s apparently decided to join him. She’s small, but sturdy-looking, strong. Big enough to be almost Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw’s age, though Dogscar is pretty sure the oldest litter of kits is only around four moons old. 

“What?”

“That’s your name, right?” she asks. “Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw said so. I’m Sorrelkit!”

Dogscar grunts. Maybe if he doesn’t respond she’ll leave him alone.

Undeterred, Sorrelkit presses on. “You fought dogs, didn’t you? That’s how you got your name? And why you have to stay in the medicine den?” She wrinkles her nose. “It smells weird in there.”

“Um. Yeah. I fought dogs. I lost, though,” Dogscar says, hoping that her interest will wane if he’s not some kind of heroic warrior.

“That’s okay!” Sorrelkit says brightly, bouncing on her tiny paws. Were his paws ever that small? “ _ Every  _ cat can't win fights every time, because someone has to lose, right? That’s what my mama says when me and my brothers play.”

“But you’re supposed to want to win,” Dogscar tells her, even as he thinks that he should  _ really  _ not be engaging with this kit if he wants her to leave him alone. “To...to defend your Clan. To help your family. You can’t be a good warrior if you just let the other Clans win.”

Sorrelkit tips her head, considering this. “But if the other Clans lose all the time, what happens to the cats that live there? Won’t they be sad?” Her eyes get bigger. “What if they get hurt, like you?”

Dogscar shrugs a little uncomfortably, looking back towards the nursery. Willowpelt and Speckletail are sitting near Goldenflower, who’s still on the ground. Two other kits—Sorrelkit’s brothers?—have joined in climbing on her. Are none of them concerned about Sorrelkit being with him?

“Uh, well,” he starts, “the other Clans don’t matter so much as ThunderClan. I mean, um, your Clan is the most important thing. You have to take care of your Clan before you worry about the others.”

Sorrelkit nods seriously. “Okay. So if another Clan is in trouble, and ThunderClan isn’t, we can help them?”

“If helping them wouldn’t hurt ThunderClan,” Dogscar says. “Sure.”

Sorrelkit looks out at nothing for a moment, and Dogscar waits for her to absorb this and probably ask more questions. Instead, she just looks up at him.

“Hey, are you gonna finish your mouse?” she asks.

Dogscar almost laughs, despite himself, and pushes what’s left over to her. Hey, he’s not a complete monster yet. Sorrelkit takes a bite and purrs loudly. Across the camp, Willowpelt catches Dogscar’s eye. She doesn’t move to bring Sorrelkit back, but her expression says it’s a near thing. 

“Hey, why don’t you head back over to your mama?” Dogscar tells the little she-kit. “What are you doing hanging out with me, anyway, when you could be using Goldenflower as a tree with the others?”

Sorrelkit licks at the bones of her mouse before the answers. “Well, you looked lonely over here by yourself. My brothers have each other, and Snowkit! And my mama always said that no cat should get left out of games, so here I am!”

“Your mama sounds like a very smart cat,” Dogscar says, looking straight at Willowpelt. Her wary gaze softens just a little, but she doesn’t take her eyes off him and her kit.

“She  _ is _ !” Sorrelkit says, jumping to her feet. “I wanna be just like her when I grow up!”

“Smart like her, or a mama like her?” Dogscar winces as soon as the words are out. Probably shouldn’t be asking a kit whether she wants to have kits.

Sorrelkit doesn’t seem to notice, just taps her tail on the ground while she thinks. “Well, I wanna be smart like her. And I like kits a lot! I help Speckletail with Snowkit all the time! Even though he’s not good at games and he  _ never  _ talks.” She glances around, nervous, the leans up to Dogscar’s ear to loudly whisper, “I think there’s something wrong with him.”

“Huh.” Dogscar looks over at Snowkit, who’s still climbing over Goldenflower. If he never talks, he might be mute.

“ _ Don’t _ tell Speckletail I said that!” Sorrelkit hisses anxiously. “She got real upset when Rainkit asked what was wrong with Snowkit and Mama said we’re not allowed to say things like that.”

“It’s okay,” Dogscar reassures her. “Your secret’s safe with me. Now you go on back to your mama.”

“But you’ll be alone then!” Sorrelkit’s eyes go wide. 

Dogscar glances around the camp quickly and says, “I’ll find another cat to talk to, don’t worry. Go on.”

With a last sad glance over her shoulder, Sorrelkit bounds away. She trips over her own paws just as she reaches the nursery, and Dogscar  _ doesn’t  _ stifle a laugh at that. He watches Willowpelt help her up and whisper something, her face contorted in the kind of worried anger only a mother gets. Sorrelkit looks up at her and protests, and then Willowpelt pushes her toward the other kits with a last warning look. 

“You’re good with kits,” Cinderpelt says, and Dogscar jumps a little.

He shakes his head. “I’m not. Any cat would have done the same thing.”

“It was sweet. I don’t agree with what you said about the Clans, but Sorrelkit’s got plenty of time to figure that out on her own. And it was good for you, I think.”

“Good for me,” Dogscar scoffs. “Yeah, okay.”

“Maybe if you’re better by the time they’re ready to be apprenticed, Bluestar will let you mentor Sorrelkit.”

“Okay, now you’re  _ really _ trying too hard. Like anyone would ever trust me with an apprentice in this lifetime.” 

Dogscar stands up and stalks back into the medicine den. He hears Cinderpelt’s lopsided gait follow him in, and sighs, turning to face her. “What.”

Cinderpelt shrugs. “I saw you out there. That was….that was the first time I’ve seen you  _ enjoy _ something since you came back from the fight. Maybe even before that.”

“Just because I didn’t claw the kit up doesn’t mean I enjoyed myself.”

“I think it helped you, having a cat to take care of,” Cinderpelt says, infinitely gentle. “Now that every cat is trying to take care of  _ you _ .”

“I talked to her for a minute, that doesn’t mean I took care of her.” Dogscar retorts.

She levels him with a look.  _ Yeah, sure.  _ Like it’s obvious and he’s being ridiculous. “Still. You like taking care of cats. Being in the nursery every day for a little while might be good for you.”

Oh, no. Now Dogscar can see where she’s going with this. “Do you really think Willowpelt would let me anywhere  _ near  _ the nursery? Did you  _ see _ her when I was with Sorrelkit? And what about Goldenflower, she’ll never let me in there, either.”

Cinderpelt waves her tail. “I’m the medicine cat. If I say it’s instrumental in your recovery, they’ll let you do it. I could also have a warrior supervise you, just to be safe.”

Dogscar shakes his head and goes back to his nest. “Sure. Whatever you want to do, Cinderpelt.”

She’s never going to  _ actually _ go through with it. Or if she does, the queens would never accept it. So it’s not going to happen. He’ll just keep going outside enough to keep Cinderpelt off his back and making sure no one talks to him. The thought is definitely not making his chest do something funny about the fact that he probably won’t get to talk to little Sorrelkit anymore. Because he doesn’t care. Kits are annoying, and he has better things to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that I LOVE Sorreltail. Everyone loves Sorreltail. Even if you’ve never met Sorreltail you love Sorreltail. So she’ll be showing up some more, don’t worry. 
> 
> A few quick announcements!  
> 1\. It’s July, which means Camp NaNoWriMo is starting! My goal is to get 30k more on this fic, which should keep updates regular through August at least, so yay!  
> 2\. I also picked an actual upload day now instead of posting chapters randomly, so every Wednesday now we get a chapter!  
> 3\. While deep diving in the Warriors Wiki I noticed that a lot of characters are related? Why does it never get brought up in-canon that Graystripe and Darkstripe (and Sorreltail!) are related? So if anyone has family/friend relationships or side characters they’d like to see explored more, drop me a comment and I’ll toss them in Swiftpaw’s path! 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading, I’ll see y’all on Wednesday!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swiftpaw plays with kits, and also he has ptsd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s Wednesday, my dudes! *feral screech*
> 
> Friendly reminder that this is a rough draft basically coming directly out of my brain with very little editing, so bear with me especially for the next few chapters, because my rough outline is so loose we haven’t even hit the second plot point yet (the first being “Swiftpaw lives”).

Cinderpelt, as it turns out, was completely serious about the nursery, and completely able to make it happen. In hindsight, Dogscar probably should’ve guessed as much.

Now, he’s standing in the entrance of the nursery, with Longtail—of course Longtail, who hasn’t so much as looked his way in days—right behind him, and four tiny faces peering out of their nests at him.

“Dogscar!” Sorrelkit yowls first, launching herself out of her nest at him. 

She buries her face in his chest for a second before bouncing back again. “You came to visit us!”

“Uh, yeah,” Dogscar says, looking over her head at Willowpelt. 

She’s just as guarded as before, and she shares a look with Speckletail, who curls her tail a little more tightly around Snowkit. Goldenflower, in the back of the den, is shrouded in shadow, and Dogscar can’t read her expression. He clears his throat.

“So, I thought I could teach you all a few basic fighting moves? So you can defend yourselves, or your mamas. As long as it’s okay with them,” he adds, nodding to the queens.

Sorrelkit whips around. “Oh,  _ please _ , can we, mama?” 

Her brothers join in immediately, and poor Willowpelt looks down at her three kits, then over at Speckletail, and finally to Goldenflower. 

“He’s your son,” she says. 

“They’re your kits,” Goldenflower replies. “I think they’ll be alright, especially with all of us and Longtail.”

Speckletail shifts in her nest and declares, “Snowkit can watch, to start.” 

“Okay,” Willowpelt says finally. All her kits cheer. 

Dogscar backs out into the camp, and Sorrelkit leads her brothers joyfully after him. She’s obviously the biggest of the litter, and if Dogscar didn’t know they were the same age he’d swear she was at least a moon older. She’s an awfully big kit.

“Alright,” he says, mostly to get their attention. Rainkit has already jumped on Sootkit for some reason. “We’re going to start with, uh, a fighting stance, so you can pounce on your enemies properly.”

He drops into the crouch, wincing a little where his healing wound pulls, and watches the kits untangle themselves and try to copy him. Snowkit stumbles forward a little like he might try to participate, and Speckletail tucks a paw around him with a hissed “ _ No,  _ Snowkit.”

It doesn’t sting, because Dogscar doesn’t care. He rolls his shoulders a bit and focuses on Rainkit, Sootkit, and Sorrelkit. Sootkit is glaring determinedly at some unseen enemy, and he actually is doing well at copying Dogscar. Rainkit’s paws are out of place, and Sorrelkit is all but vibrating with excitement where she looks up at him. 

He nudges their paws and bodies a bit to help them, then returns to his own crouch. “Okay, now you three pretend I’m a big old ShadowClan warrior coming into camp and attack me.”

The three of them waste no time in leaping at Dogscar and bowling him over. He has just enough time to turn so he hits the ground mostly on his side, mostly not on any of his big wounds. The feeling of tiny bodies forcing him into the dirt is uncomfortably similar to the feeling of massive paws pressing him into rotting leaves, and he hisses.

“Are you okay?” Sorrelkit asks from where she perches on his shoulder. “Did we hurt you?”

He grunts and gently rolls over, batting the kits away and standing over them all. “I’m fine. And there’s a lesson for you: the enemy will try to look defeated to get you to back down. Don’t do that.”

“Yeah, Sorrelkit!” Rainkit yowls. “ThunderClan shows no mercy!”

Dogscar shoots a sideways glance at the queens. Willowpelt looks nervous, so he grudgingly says “Well, ThunderClan can show a little mercy. We have to be better than the other Clans, after all.”

Rainkit nods seriously. “Okay. But we can still attack you, right?”

“You can try,” Dogscar says, and there’s just the smallest hint of a grin in it.

The kits tackle him to the ground again.

-0-0-0-

He’s sitting in the medicine den a few days later, getting the most thorough checkup he’s had so far, when Longtail finally looks at him again. Not in the impassive, distant, vaguely sad way he’s been watching Dogscar play with kits for the last few days, but really looking. 

Dogscar lets his eyes slide over to where Cinderpelt is sniffing at his back wound, the only one that hasn’t completely healed yet. “Is there a reason you’re being so intense about this? Look, it’s been so long Longtail had to come collect me.” 

He almost adds  _ the kits will be wondering where I am _ , but stops, because that’s ridiculous. The kits were just fine before he started teaching them basic battle moves and helping them hunt imaginary prey and submitting himself to games. They’ll be just fine without him, too.

“I am here to collect you,” Longtail says, “but not for the nursery. Cinderpelt decided you and Brightpaw can return to training today.”

“We’re warriors,” Dogscar muttered. “What do we have to train for.”

“You’ve been badly wounded and off of warrior duties for more than half a moon. You’re going to need a bit of work to get back to where you used to be,” Cinderpelt explains. “And take it easy with your back. I don’t think it’s at risk of tearing open again, but it’s getting close to being fully healed and I would really like to keep it that way.”

Dogscar stands up, lightly shakes some leaf litter from his fur. “Yeah, okay.”

Longtail dips his head to them both and leads the way out of the den. Brightpaw and Cloudtail, along with Whitestorm, are waiting outside—Brightpaw having been given as much of an all-clear as could be expected earlier that morning.

“Are we ready?” Longtail asks. 

Whitestorm nods and they all start out of camp. Cloudtail included.

“Cloudtail, you can stay here. You’ve been away from warrior duties long enough already,” Longtail says, and Dogscar thinks  _ thank StarClan.  _

But Cloudtail just shakes his head and presses himself a little closer to Brightpaw. “I’ve been working with her. On her blind side. To help her so she can be a warrior again.”

“And that’s really good,” Whitestorm tells him. Dogscar takes a sort of vicious pleasure in the patronizing tone of his voice. “But the Clan really does need you here, Cloudtail. Go hunting and feed the elders, we’ll be back before you know it.”

“But Whitestorm-“

“Cloudtail.”

The young warrior hesitates one moment longer, pressing his cheek quickly against Brightpaw’s, before he slips away. Dogscar takes his place beside Brightpaw, though not quite as close, as they pad out of camp. No one speaks for the entire walk to the training hollow.

“Well,” Whitestorm says when they stop in the sand, “We’d better get started. We’ll assess where the two of you are right now so we know what to work on.” 

He glances sideways at Longtail for confirmation, and the tabby warrior nods, dropping into a fighting stance. Whitestorm moves himself and Brightpaw to the other end of the hollow.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Longtail says quietly.

Dogscar drops into his own fighting stance and waits barely a heartbeat before launching himself at his mentor. Longtail dodges easily, clearly expecting the move. He lunges at Dogscar from the side, pushing him over, but it’s so  _ gentle _ , far more so than any other training session. Even before the dog attack Dogscar’s body was littered with scars from training that got too rough. He’s no stranger to bruises, and neither is Longtail.

So this? The sudden treating him like he’s something fragile, breakable? It’s not happening.

“Hey,” he snaps, rolling away from Longtail and back to his paws (which he can do, because his mentor didn’t even try to pin him down,  _ StarClan _ ). “You don’t have to take it easy on me.”

He punctuates his statement with a favorite move of his, swiping at Longtail’s face with one paw and, while the warrior rears back from that, hooking his legs out from under him with the other. Predictably, Longtail goes down. Whitestorm sneakily taught Dogscar that move  _ moons  _ ago and Longtail still gets tricked by it. Dogscar lets himself smile, just a little, at the victory as he jumps to pin Longtail down. 

“Oh, I don’t, do I?” Longtail snarls back easily, and he manages to get his hind legs up under Dogscar and push him off with surprising force.

He lands roughly, sliding in the sand, and a low, burning pain shoots along his back. The sky flashes above him, framed by trees, and then Longtail’s body is on top of him again.

His open jaws are nothing at all like the gaping maw of a dog. His pelt is all the wrong colors. He’s far too small, far too light, but his paw is one Dogscar’s chest and his body is blocking everything else out and Dogscar’s back  _ burns _ and he’s back, he’s in that blood-smeared clearing by Snakerocks again and the dogs are growling all around him and somewhere Brightpaw is screaming-

“-ogscar! Hey, hey, come on, come back,” Longtail is saying, and Dogscar blinks at him. 

His mentor’s nose is barely a whisker from his own, but the pain has receded and all the noise seems to have been sucked out of the air, so it’s okay. Kind of. Dogscar realizes he’s lying on his back and scrambles quickly to his paws, backing up several paces until he hits a tree. That’s good. No one can come up behind him, now. 

Longtail is staring at him, and the look in his eyes is nothing short of devastation. Brightpaw stands just behind Whitestorm, like maybe she tried to run over and the older warrior stepped in front of her. Which is probably true, because apparently Dogscar just  _ lost it _ and they all know how dangerous he is. How volatile. Anything could’ve happened.

Dogscar is distantly aware that he is shaking. And cold. A cold that sort of worms its way between all of his bones, not like winter, like...like a light freezing rain in an early newleaf. Soaking in slowly, but every bit as wet and choking as a gushing torrent. 

“Dogscar,” Longtail starts, and then stops, like he doesn’t know what to say. Which makes two of them, at least.

“You need to see Cinderpelt,” Whitestorm says at last, taking a step forward. Dogscar’s eyes shoot to him, because apparently he’s managed to move steadily closer while Dogscar was focused on Longtail, and now he’s almost near enough to  _ touch _ , and every instinct is screaming at him to  _ not let that happen _ . 

“Don’t touch me,” he snaps, and Whitestorm stops walking. 

“Okay,” he agrees easily. Too easily. “Whatever you want. You look, uh, a little shaky, though, so I thought you’d like the support.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t, so d-don’t,” Dogscar growls, and then he wants to rake his claws through the nearest tree when he stumbles over the last word. 

Whitestorm exchanges a worried look with Longtail that they don’t even try to hide. Dogscar grits his teeth to stop himself from flying at them. He’s not some fragile little kit, he’s  _ fine _ , what do any of them know?

Except….it felt so  _ real _ , for one moment, he was completely and totally sure that it had been a dog standing over him, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. He’s  _ not  _ crazy. He’s not weak. But if he can’t even let Longtail pin him on the ground without being thrown back into the clearing full of dogs, what chance does he have as a warrior?

“We should go back to camp,” Longtail says, and Dogscar growls as he whirls around.

The growl dies quickly as he stops dead. Whitestorm and Longtail and Brightpaw are behind him. He can feel rheir eyes on his fur and it’s—it’s so  _ stupid _ , he should just…

He can’t have them behind him. Every instinct wants him to turn around, won’t let him have his back to his enemies. Nevermind that they’re his  _ Clanmates _ and he’s supposed to  _ trust them _ .

He doesn’t move, just stands there, his legs trembling ever so slightly, until Longtail comes up next to him. It’s none of the old closeness they used to have, no bumping shoulders or tails looped over backs or pelts brushing as they walk. Longtail is a tail-length away, wary, and Dogscar half wants him to come closer and is half certain he’d attack him if he did. 

He hangs his head. “You...walk ahead of me. All of you. I just. I can’t.”

Longtail touches his tail to Dogscar’s flank before he has to try and explain further. Dogscar absolutely does not flinch. He waits there, staring at his own paws, as Brightpaw and Whitestorm walk past. Their pity and worry is thick in the air and Dogscar isn’t sure who he hates more: them, or himself.

He jerks his head to let Longtail go ahead of him and follows, a step or two behind. He’s still prickly and on high alert, but it helps, somehow, seeing the others in front of him.

No one says a single word the entire way back to camp. Dogscar keeps his eyes on the ground, but he can still feel them all glancing back at him. 

There’s a few more glances when they reach camp, but nothing much—he and Brightpaw are slowly becoming a more common sight, their scars less and less horrifying every day. Dogscar doesn’t try to avoid the medicine den, just follows Longtail’s feather-light touch that points him there. He has two warring things inside of him, one holding so  _ much  _ of  _ everything  _ he could explode, and the other holding so  _ much  _ of  _ nothing _ that he can barely keep himself moving. He’s not sure which one will win out, or if one even can.

“You’re back early,” Cinderpelt says. Concern colors her voice.

“Dogscar had a, um…” Longtail glances at Dogscar, as if  _ he  _ has any idea what happened, either. “Vision? Nightmare? I’m not sure how to describe it.”

Cinderpelt frowns. “What?” She rounds on Dogscar. “What happened? What did you see?”

“I saw, um, the dogs,” Dogscar says. “It was...it was exactly like being back in the battle. Like a nightmare, I guess, but…”

“You were awake,” Cinderpelt says gently. “I’ve seen this before. Sometimes cats will….relive their pasts, if something happens to trigger it. Did anything in particular happen before it started?”

Longtail answers first. “We were sparring. I pinned him down. I didn’t think that would happen, or I would  _ never _ -“

“I know,” Cinderpelt interrupts. “It’s not your fault.” 

“Is there a way to stop it?” Dogscar asks. “If I can’t even fight my  _ mentor  _ without this happening…”

He trails off, lets the truth speak for itself. Cinderpelt shifts a little awkwardly. “It’s...hard to say. With time, and some practice, you could learn to work around it. But the mind is a tricky thing, and not exactly my area of expertise. We don’t have herbs for this kind of thing.”

“Right,” Dogscar says, bitter.  _ Time _ is all it takes to do anything. He doesn’t want to  _ wait _ , he’s the fastest thing in the Clans, he doesn’t want to lay in his nest and watch the sun leap across the sky and show him every single day he’s missing because he can’t get  _ over  _ himself.

“Do you need anything, Dogscar? I have some poppy seeds-“ Cinderpelt starts, and he shakes his head viciously, angry again, at himself, and her, and every other thing in the world.

“Just leave me alone,” he growls, and pushes past her. He curls in his nest, back to the entrance, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

In the darkness behind his eyelids, he sees the dogs again. Noises in the background turn into snapping teeth and low snarls, and the fur on his back prickles where he could  _ swear  _ something was watching. Hunting. 

He squeezes his eyes tighter and doesn’t move. He is stronger than this. He will not let this control him. He will not let this stop him from being a warrior.

“Dogscar.”

He  _ doesn’t _ flinch. It’s fine. It’s under control. 

It’s Cloudtail.

“What do you  _ want _ ,” he snarls.

“Brightpaw told me she was worried about you. She has nightmares all the time, y’know, and sometimes she wakes up and she’s  _ convinced _ they’re real. So I know a thing or two.”

“You want to  _ help _ ?” Dogscar snaps, except it comes out a little less harsh than he wanted. “What’re you gonna do, snuggle me?”

“If you want,” Cloudtail says. “It helps,  _ actually _ , and since you’re doing a real nice job of throwing every other cat you know away like crowfood, I thought I’d offer.”

“Well, I don’t want your help, so you can go away and leave me alone. Get back to Brightpaw,” Dogscar mutters.

Instead of leaving, he gets Cloudtail’s paw pushing at his shoulder. “Shut up and move over. I can see you shaking from practically the other side of camp, and I’m tired of your little loner act. Plus it makes Brightpaw  _ miserable _ .”

Of course. Dogscar nearly scoffs. Of course Cloudtail’s only here to appease Brightpaw.

“What part of  _ go  _ and  _ away  _ do you not understand?” 

Cloudtail pushes at him more forcefully and settles into the nest at his back. “I am going away. Going away from camp. Towards your nest, because  _ StarClan _ , even you don’t deserve this. Someone’s gotta try.”

Dogscar just puts his head down and doesn’t bother with a response. He’d never admit it in a million years, but having Cloudtail curled around his back  _ does  _ help some. He stops shaking so much, at least.

“Dogscar,” Cloudtail says, just firm enough to get him to prick one ear. “We are going to lay here in this nest and you are not going to say anything, and you’re going to do what I tell you. Got it?”

“For how long?” Dogscar mutters.

“As long as it takes you to stop trembling hard enough to cause an earthquake,” Cloudtail says. “Now shut up and breathe with me so I can help you out and you can quit making everybody sad.”

Dogscar growls softly but grudgingly does as he’s told. Slowly, his breathing matches up with the slow, deliberate rise and fall of Cloudtail’s flank against him. 

Cloudtail doesn’t say anything else, but slowly, his head comes to rest across Dogscar’s shoulder blades and his long, ridiculously fluffy tail curls around his legs. He presses a little closer to Dogscar, one long line of warmth along his back, and Dogscar can’t help it. His eyes drift closed and he falls into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cloudtail can be nice sometimes.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! Because of writing for Camp Nano, I am now finished up through chapter 8 (yay!) so while I’m still open for y’all’s requests/suggestions, it might be a little bit before they actually appear.
> 
> Also, like I said, this is a very rough draft that I will probably go back and doctor up at the end, so feedback and concrit is welcome!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorrelkit proceeds to be as adorable as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Dives in front of the timeline, which is on fire*  
> Friendly reminder that I am not following the plotline of canon really at all anymore, because apparently I can check the wiki religiously for everyone’s eye colors but not simple things like major plot events. Hopefully it turns out okay anyway. 
> 
> (Also, warning for a death in this chapter which is actually not canonical, but very deserved, in my opinion.)

When Dogscar wakes up, it’s the middle of the night. He flails mentally for a moment, searching for what happened, and remembers: Cloudtail. 

The white warrior isn’t in Dogscar’s nest anymore, though. He’s shining like a beacon in Brightpaw’s nest, curled around her, his head on her shoulders, his tail wrapped loosely around her. Dogscar glares at their sleeping forms and twists in his nest so he can't see them anymore. Naturally Cloudtail went back to Brightpaw the second he was able.

Not that Dogscar cares. Let Cloudtail do what he wants, Dogscar doesn’t need him and he doesn’t  _ want  _ him, so. 

He puts his head down again and closes his eyes.

“Psst.”

One shredded ear pricks up.

“ _ Psst.  _ Dogscar!”

Oh, StarClan. 

He opens his eyes. Sorrelkit is standing in front of him, tucked close to the ground. Her eyes are bright and eager in the dark. 

“Hi!” she whispers loudly. “I’m sneaking in to see you ‘cause Mama said Goldenflower was worried about you, which is silly because you look fine to me! But I came to look anyway to make sure, so here I am!”

“You snuck out of the nursery?” Dogscar hisses. “Sorrelkit, you can’t do that.”

She tips her head. “But I can. I just did, silly.”

“You have to go back, or you’ll get in trouble.”

Sorrelkit just flicks her tail, unbothered. “Mama never stays mad at me for long. And you’re my friend! I don’t mind getting in trouble!”

And Dogscar….well, what can he say to that? Except Sorrelkit is watching him still, jaws parted in a big kit-grin, proud of her little escapade and waiting for him to say something.

“Oh,” he says finally. “Well.”

“Goldenflower said you looked scared earlier!” Sorrelkit says. She’s entirely too chipper about it. “Like maybe you had a nightmare! I have nightmares sometimes, like this one where a really big bird came to the camp and it carried me away! It was real scary.”

“I...I’m sure,” Dogscar says with a little glance around. Everyone else is still asleep.

“And when I woke up my Mama cuddled me  _ really _ hard until I felt better! And you’re bigger than me but I thought I could try and help anyway!”

Sorrelkit doesn’t even wait for a response, just dives forward to curl up against Dogscar’s belly. He’s too shocked to stop her and then...well.

He doesn’t exactly have an excuse for not pushing her out of the nest immediately.

“Is it working?” Sorrelkit whispers after a minute. She looks up at him, her amber eyes huge and round. 

Dogscar swallows. “Uh, sure. Sure it’s working.”

“Good!” Sorrelkit says, too loudly. Behind her, Cinderpelt makes a soft sound and shifts in her sleep.

Sorrelkit flattens her ears a little. “Oops,” she whispers. “Sorry.” 

“Go to sleep,” Dogscar tells her, and he lays down, closes his eyes. Tries not to think about the tiny body curled next to him. 

Sorrelkit lets out a tiny breath that he assumes means she’s drifting off, and then, a moment later as he’s doing the same, a small paw pokes him in the cheek. “Psst. Dogscar.”

“What,” he mumbles. 

“What do you get nightmares about?”

Oh,  _ no _ . He is not having this conversation with a kit. “Go to sleep, Sorrelkit.”

“Because my mama, when we get nightmares, she helps us be better by telling us it won’t happen. Like with my hawk dream! She said there are lots of warriors and guards in the camp  _ all  _ the time and that they would all see the hawk if it came down,  _ and  _ if it got me they would jump on it and save me!” Sorrelkit explains.”So if I know what you dream about I can maybe help you, too!”

Dogscar opens one eye. Sorrelkit’s pleading face is a whisker from his own. “Go to sleep.”

“Come on, please? Just tell me a little?” Sorrelkit asks. “Is it the dogs?”

Dogscar sighs and relents. “Yeah, it’s the dogs. Fighting them.”

Sorrelkit flicks an ear back. “That must’ve been  _ really  _ scary.”

“Yeah,” Dogscar says quietly. “It was.”

“But it won’t happen again,” Sorrelkit tells him. “Because you know where the dogs are, right? So you just have to stay away from there. Or only go if you’ve got lotsa warriors. And the dogs can’t get you hear, because you’ve got Cloudtail and Brightpaw and Cinderpelt and all the warriors to protect you! And me!”

“Thanks, Sorrelkit,” Dogscar murmurs. “That helps.”

“See!” she says, breaking into a grin. “I told you it would help!”

“Yeah.” Dogscar closes his eyes, pushes his muzzle into his paws. “Now, go to sleep maybe, huh?”

Sorrelkit makes a sleepy sound in response and puts her chin on Dogscar’s leg. They fall asleep like that in the dark, and for once Dogscar sleeps without dreaming.

-0-0-0-

“Sorrelkit! Oh, StarClan,  _ Sorrelkit _ !”

The panicked yowl brings Dogscar hurtling out of the medicine den. After Sorrelkit was found in the den that morning, she was given a scolding but apparently not punished otherwise. For his part, Dogscar had been in the medicine den, sometimes talking with Cinderpelt and mostly just being put to work sorting herbs for a bit while avoiding questions about the disastrous training exercise the day before.

But now, Sorrelkit was being carried into camp, her limp body— _ her limp body _ —swinging from Fireheart’s jaws. He pushes past Dogscar, nearly running, and skids into the medicine den. Dogscar is right on his heels. 

“She ate deathberries,” Fireheart is saying. “We scraped as much out of her mouth as we could, but she might-“

“Yarrow,” Cinderpelt says, unceremoniously pressing some small leaves into Sorrelkit’s mouth. 

Sorrelkit whimpers and Cinderpelt murmurs to her,  _ please just eat the herbs, sweetheart, they’ll make you better _ , and, eyes still closed, Sorrelkit does. 

She’s barely swallowed them when she twists, her body convulsing, and vomits into the dirt. 

After an agonizing minute of Sorrelkit coughing up the contents of her stomach, her head falls back down and her breathing starts to even out.

“She should be alright now,” Cinderpelt says. “If you brought her here straight away there’s a good chance none of the berries had the opportunity to take effect.”

“And if some did?” Fireheart asks.

“We’d probably know. Deathberries aren’t exactly a peaceful way to go,” Cinderpelt says. 

Fireheart nods and then Willowpelt is pushing her way into the nursery along with Brackenfur.

“Is she okay?” Willowpelt asks. “Sorrelkit, is she— _ Sorrelkit _ !”

“She’s fine, just sleeping. She needs rest,” Cinderpelt says quickly, stepping in front of Willowpelt at her distraught cry. “She’ll stay in the medicine den for observation until she wakes up, okay? I promise I’ve done everything I can, and I think she’ll be just fine.”

Willowpelt gives her a tight nod and pushes forward, gently pushing her muzzle into Sorrelkit’s fur. 

Dogscar turns away. It feels a little invasive to watch as Willowpelt trembles slightly, whispering in her daughter’s ear.

“This is all my fault,” Brackenfur says. “I wasn’t with Darkstripe when I was supposed to be. If I had, he would never have-“

“Darkstripe did this?” Willowpelt asks, her voice ice. She’s frozen completely over Sorrelkit, who’s now curled gently into an empty nest. “Darkstripe. My son.”

“Graystripe saw him do it.”

Dogscar steps forward, head low. “I’ll kill him.”

Cinderpelt blocks him with her shoulder. “No, you will  _ not _ .”

Willowpelt pushes through all of them without another word. Dogscar catches a glimpse of her face, and she is completely unrecognizable from the gentle, protective queen he knew. Her eyes are cold and her teeth flash in a growl, her tail whipping through the air as she stalks into the camp.

Dogscar follows her, along with Brackenfur and Fireheart. Darkstripe is standing next to Graystripe, both of them clawed up and bleeding. Willowpelt doesn’t break stride, and all Dogscar sees is Darkstripe’s eyes widening as he takes a step back before she leaps.

“You tried to  _ kill  _ Sorrelkit!” she screeches. “My daughter!  _ Your sister _ !”

“I tried to stop her! She ate them all on her own!” Darkstripe yelps, writhing under Willowpelt’s grip. 

“No,” Willowpelt snarls. “You were always so in love with Tigerstar, Darkstripe, but I  _ never  _ thought you would go this far. I thought I knew you better than this. I raised you to be a loyal, a  _ good  _ warrior.”

“There’s nothing left in ThunderClan to be loyal to,” Darkstripe snarls.

Every cat in the camp is watching them now. Horror and disgust and fear mars the faces of the ThunderClan cats. Dogscar growls. 

“A kittypet and a weak old she-cat leading a Clan of warriors?” Darkstripe spits. “It’s pathetic. The only cat worth following in the forest is Tigerstar.”

Willowpelt steps off of Darkstripe. “Go and follow him then. You’re no son of mine.”

“Good,” Darkstripe hisses as he climbs back to his paws. “She deserved it, anyway. Following me around, poking her nose into other cat’s business. Maybe now she’ll stay in the nursery where she belongs.”

Willowpelt flies at him, her jaws open wide in a feral scream. Her claws meet his shoulders and her teeth meet his throat, and they land on the ground in a tangle of grey and black.

When Willowpelt tears away, tears are streaming down her cheeks, and blood is dripping from her mouth. Darkstripe’s flanks are heaving, but he doesn’t stand up.

“I was going to let you  _ leave _ ,” Willowpelt says. Her voice breaks on the last word. “If there was even a chance you could be good someday. But you nearly killed your own kin, a  _ kit _ , and then you had the gall to say she deserved it.”

Darkstripe heaves a breath, stretches one paw out towards his mother. Willowpelt jerks away.

“There is nothing good left in your heart now, Darkstripe,” she whispers. “A cat who murders innocent kits is worse than Tigerstar. You will walk the Dark Forest forever, and if by some miracle StarClan lets you into their ranks, I will send you there myself when I die.”

Darkstripe’s reaching paw falls to the earth. Dogscar watches his eyes close as his flanks rise, and fall, and do not rise again.

“Goodbye, Darkstripe,” Willowpelt says. “May StarClan turn their backs on you. May you find rotting prey, twisted forests, and no safety when you sleep.”

The entire camp is silent. After a long moment, Willowpelt lifts her head and looks at them all. 

“Hold a vigil over his body if you like. Or bury him. Or drag his body to ShadowClan territory to rot until his precious Tigerstar finds him. Whatever you’d like. I need to see my daughter.”

Goldenflower is the first to come forward, wrapping her tail around Willowpelt and whispering quietly in her ear as she guides her back toward the medicine den. 

Fireheart clears his throat. “If...If any cat would like to say their goodbyes to Darkstripe, now would be the time.”

No cat moves. Longtail makes a sound like a cut-off growl and turns away. A few other cats walk away as well, and Fireheart pads into the middle of the circle of warriors. 

“Would, um, would the elders please take Darkstripe’s body for burial, then,” the deputy says.

“Not on ThunderClan territory!” Speckletail yowls. A few other cats voice their dissent with her.

One-eye, Smallear, and Dappletail pad forward to Darkstripe’s body. 

“Don’t worry,” Smallear says grimly. “He’ll be buried outside Clan territory with the other rogues and traitors.”

“We’ll dig a shallow grave,” Dappletail adds.

They pick up Darkstripe’s body with no more ceremony and carry him out of the camp. His tail and two of his paws drag in the dirt as they go. 

Dogscar turns back to the medicine den, ducking inside. Willowpelt is still there, leaning against Goldenflower and staring down at Sorrelkit. 

“I should...I should go make sure Rainkit and Sootkit are alright,” Willowpelt whispers, moving to stand.

“Willow, honey,” Goldenflower says softly. “You’re covered in blood.”

Willowpelt stops short and slumps. Goldenflower gently nudges her up and out of the medicine den, mumuring something about cleaning up and Sorrelkit and Cinderpelt watching her. Dogscar keeps his eyes on the ground as they pass him, then walks back to Sorrelkit. 

She’s laying in his nest, probably because it was the closest one. And there’s plenty of moss and bracken to make another, but...Dogscar doesn’t. He lays down beside Sorrelkit, curled around her in the same way they’d slept together last night. Cinderpelt gives him a knowing look.

“What? She’s in my nest. Someone’s gotta look after her,” Dogscar says.

“If you say so.” Cinderpelt doesn’t even try to keep the little laugh out of her voice. 

Dogscar gently moves Sorrelkit and himself so that his back is to Cinderpelt, just to make a point. 

Sorrelkit is sleeping soundly against his belly, and he’s in the medicine den, and the whole thing is eerily similar to the last time Dogscar was stuck in the medicine den for days.

He was sick, then, with whitecough, and so was Mistlekit—she was so small then, barely old enough for fresh-kill. She’d curled up next to him just like this, a tiny, coughing kit who’s every breath rattled in her lungs. It was cold at night, even inside the den, and Swiftpaw remembers shivering slightly as he curled ever more tightly around Mistlekit.

He remembers her breath, sour on his cheek. He didn’t sleep all night. He was the only one awake when Mistlekit went still.

He was too afraid to move when it happened, and feigned sleep in the morning when she was discovered, when the medicine cat whispered over his head, when she was lifted gently from the nest. Later, Goldenflower had been the one to tell him that Mistlekit hadn’t made it. That StarClan had taken her into the stars.

But that’s not going to happen again. Dogscar looks down at Sorrelkit, healthy and  _ fine  _ and just asleep. She’s going to be alright. StarClan will not take her yet. 

“You’re not going to die,” Dogscar whispers to her. He looks up, towards the top of the den that blocks his view of the sky. “You hear that, StarClan? She’s going to be fine. You’re not taking her today. Not on my watch.”

It’s stupid. Sorrelkit is fine, if she wasn’t they would have known by now. But Dogscar puts his head next to her muzzle anyway, curls his tail around her. Waits.

-0-0-0-

Sorrelkit wakes with a little cough that has Dogscar coiled tense in an instant. But all she does is blink sleepily up at him.

“Dogscar?” she asks, squinting. “Hi! What’s...what happened?” 

Dogscar glances over his shoulder. Cinderpelt is staring at him, one paw raised as if she froze mid-step. 

“What do you remember?” he asks carefully.

“I wanted to go on an adventure!” Sorrelkit tells him. “So I followed Darkstripe out of camp, and I saw him meet with this cat who smelled  _ really  _ weird, and then-“

“He met someone?” Dogscar interrupts. “Who?”

“I dunno.” Sorrelkit wrinkles her nose. “He was big and white and he had black paws.”

Dogscar looks back at Cinderpelt. He’s not up to date on Clan politics, but he’s pretty sure he remembers a ShadowClan cat called Blackfoot. White cat with black paws is hard to forget. So why was Darkstripe meeting with him?

Sorrelkit continues. “Anyway, Darkstripe found me after that, and he said since I was such a good stalker I could have a treat, and he showed me these berries! They made me feel really weird though, and I don’t...I don’t remember anything else. Am I in trouble? Did I do something bad?”

“No, no, of course not. You did just fine,” Dogscar says quickly. 

“But I’m not s’posed to leave camp,” Sorrelkit protests.

“Well, I don’t think any cat is really worried about that right now, because you got pretty sick, and we were all worried about you. Especially your mama.”

“From the berries?” Sorrelkit’s eyes are huge.

“Yes, from the berries,” Cinderpelt says, finally walking around Dogscar to crouch in front of Sorrelkit. “Darkstripe did a very bad thing when he told you to eat them. They’re called deathberries, and if you eat one it could kill you. You were really lucky that Graystripe saw what happened, Sorrelkit. So I need you to promise me that you’ll  _ never  _ eat any strange plants again, unless a medicine cat tells you to. Okay?”

“O-Okay,” Sorrelkit whimpers. “Where’s my mama?”

“She went to take care of your brothers and make sure they were okay,” Dogscar says. “We can take you to her now, as long as you’re better. Do you feel okay now?”

Sorrelkit tips her head. “Yeah, I think so. Can I see Mama now?”

“Sure, honey,” Cinderpelt says, and Sorrelkit hops up to follow her out to the nursery. 

Dogscar follows them, sitting in the entrance of the den. Willowpelt launches out of the nursery as soon as Cinderpelt calls out to her, and she wraps herself around her daughter. Cinderpelt whispers something and Willowpelt looks up at Dogscar. He flicks one ear back, ready for outright hostility to spread over her face, but Willowpelt just dips her head to him and gently herds Sorrelkit into the nursery.

“You do a good job with her,” Cinderpelt says as she walks back over.

“It’s a kit. Not that hard. And she was asleep most of the time anyway.”

“She’s not asleep when you play with her in the nursery. Or when she came to find you last night.” Cinderpelt grins. 

Dogscar shakes his head. “Yeah, okay. So I’m not terrible with a kit. Good for me.”

“I meant what I said before about you being her mentor, if you can get back into shape in time,” Cinderpelt says. “And if you can learn to forgive yourself.”

She’s already walking towards the camp entrance as Dogscar whirls to follow her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” Cinderpelt tells him over her shoulder. “I was hoping you’d pull yourself out of it but,  _ warriors _ . All the same. Too stubborn for your own good. Come on, we’re going for a walk, you’ve wallowed long enough. Tomorrow you’re moving back into the warriors den with Cloudtail and Brightpaw, so we have a lot to talk about before tonight.”

Dogscar glances over his shoulder at the camp, where Cloudtail and Brightpaw are talking with some other warriors. Brightpaw laughs at something, and like that, with her left side facing away from him, she looks almost the way she used to. And Dogscar is left behind in the same ruts he hauled her into that night, the ones she climbed right out of. 

He sighs and follows Cinderpelt into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Darkstripe, the worst warriors villain, is dead! And I mean worst as in least competent, not, yknow, actually bad. I mean, this dude did basically nothing except try to kill a baby (failed) and a starving old man (also failed) before he died. Sorry Darkstripe fans (if you exist?), but I don’t like him. 
> 
> Next chapter: Cinderpelt and Dogscar have a very long chat and the angst-fest finally, maybe, starts to wind down.
> 
> I’m currently up to what I believe is chapter 10 now, so yay! Maybe soon I’ll actually put up a final chapter count. As always, comments, kudos, feedback, suggestions, whatever you want are very appreciated!!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cinderpelt and Swiftpaw have a conversation that leads to a bloody discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, check out a serious chapter summary! Canonical character death in this chapter, just as a warning, but nothing more graphic than canon.

“So what is this about?” Dogscar asks. “Are you here to tell me it wasn’t my fault and not to attack any of my Clanmates again? I’m not stupid.”

Cinderpelt tips her head to him. “You’re right. You aren’t. And no, that’s not what I was going to say. Actually I was going to ask if you knew what marigold looks like.”

“Why?” Dogscar grumbles. “You can find herbs all by yourself just fine. And aren’t you supposed to have a guard when you go out? To make sure nothing hurts you?”

“I’ve got you,” Cinderpelt says. “Marigold, yes or no?”

Dogscar nearly rolls his eyes. “Yes, obviously. Yellow and orange flowers. And shouldn’t your guard be someone who isn’t at risk of attacking you?”

Cinderpelt hums. “Maybe. What’s it for? The marigold.”

“To keep out infections. You’ve used it on me and Brightpaw a thousand times by now,” Dogscar says exasperatedly. “Are we going to talk about anything important, or just plants?”

“Herbs are what I use to  _ heal _ cats, Dogscar, and they’re what saved your life. They’re important. But yes, we are going to talk about  _ you _ , since I know that’s what you meant.”

Dogscar looks away. “So, talk.”

“Why don’t you start?” Cinderpelt asks. “You’re the one inside your head all day, I’m just observing. You blame yourself for the dog attack, yes?”

“Obviously. It was my idea, I forced Brightpaw into it. I snuck out.”

Cinderpelt nods. “Right. And you blame, well, just about any other cat you lay eyes on, right?”

Dogscar fixes his eyes on the trees in front of them and doesn’t answer.

“Is that a yes or a no? Or do you not want to answer?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay. Bluestar is the one who refused to make anyone but Cloudtail a warrior, which prompted all of this. That makes it her fault, right?”

Dogscar cuts his eyes sideways to Cinderpelt. It feels like a leading question, like a trap, but he can’t tell where the trail of it ends. “Yes,” he says carefully.

“And since Fireheart, as her deputy, could have tried to convince her to make you and Brightpaw warriors as well, that makes it sort of his fault as well, doesn’t it?” Cinderpelt asks.

“Sort of.”

“And Longtail and Whitestorm—they’re your mentors. It’s their job to tell Bluestar when their apprentices are ready to become warriors. It’s their job to make  _ sure  _ that happens.” Cinderpelt says. “Am I wrong?”

“Well, no,” Dogscar says. 

Cinderpelt veers off the trail towards a patch of dark blue flowers. She gestures to them with one paw. “What’s this?”

Dogscar sniffs at them. “Borage.”

“Good. What’s it for?” Cinderpelt asks.

“Well, you used it when Dappletail had a fever the other day. I remember that,” Dogscar says.

“You pick up a lot,” Cinderpelt says, plucking some of the stems and bundling them together against the tree roots to pick up later.

Dogscar shrugs. “Not like I had anything else to do. Is there a reason you’re quizzing me on herbs?”

“No, just curious. Not many cats have a knack for remembering things.” Cinderpelt says, and starts walking again. “So, one more question.”

Dogscar eyes her. “What.”

“If Longtail, Whitestorm, and Fireheart all had an obligation to talk to Bluestar and make sure you and Brightpaw were made warriors, what about Goldenflower or Frostfur?”

“What about them?”

“Well,” Cinderpelt says, “they’re your mothers. They could have talked to Bluestar as well, tried to make sure you got to have your ceremony alongside Cloudtail, right?”

“Sure, they  _ could  _ have,” Dogscar growls. “Any cat could have. We’re all Clanmates.”

“So then isn’t it every cat's fault?” Cinderpelt asks. 

“I don’t  _ know _ ,” Dogscar snaps. “Yes? I don’t know what the right answer is. I don’t know what you’re trying to say. Aren’t you supposed to be trying to stop me from blaming everyone around me?”

“There are no right answers. There’s just what you think,” Cinderpelt says, not unkindly. “So is that what you think? Everyone in the Clan could’ve stopped Bluestar, so everyone is at fault?”

“I don’t  _ know _ anymore. I don’t...I don’t know. Goldenflower...she’s my  _ mom _ .”

Cinderpelt brushes against his shoulder. “I know. It’s alright. But, let me ask you this: what if it’s no one’s fault?”

“What’s that supposed to mean? It had to happen somehow.”

“Maybe everyone was blindsided by what Bluestar did. Maybe no one knew the dogs were at Snakerocks, so no one thought there was any danger in the territory. No one thought this would happen because it’s  _ never happened before _ . Nobody could have predicted this.”

“So what?” Dogscar asked.

“So maybe they were working with what they had: a leader who wasn’t quite who she used to be and some apprentices they expected to be made warriors on time, and a territory that, as far as they knew, was as safe as it always had been.” Cinderpelt stops walking. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Dogscar shakes his head and starts pacing in front of Cinderpelt, too tense to sit. “So it’s Bluestar’s fault?”

“Bluestar’s been through a lot. You know Tigerstar tried to kill her. Finding out a whole group of your own Clanmates was plotting your death does things to a cat. Any near death experience does. You should know that.” 

Dogscar lashes his tail, staring at the ground. “Yeah.”

“I know this doesn’t magically fix anything,” Cinderpelt says. “I would never have even thought of bringing this up a few days ago. I think being with Sorrelkit, and time and distance, was good for you. It’s something to think about.”

“Yeah,” Dogscar agrees quietly. 

Cinderpelt starts walking again. “Okay. You can think on that. I have to get some marigold—someone’s dogfight depleted my stores faster than I could replenish them—and I’m low on yarrow now.”

“You still want me with you?” Dogscar asks.

Cinderpelt glances around. “Still need a bodyguard, right? But I do have some warrior training, if you’d really rather go back to camp.”

“No. I’m fine.”

They keep walking. Dogscar stares at the ground, trying to sort out the tangle of his thoughts. He can’t quite justify Bluestar, her cold, cloudy eyes as she gave him his new name, called him  _ this one  _ like he was barely worthy of her time, with a cat who is struggling after facing down death. It just...it doesn’t connect. But Goldenflower...he can’t blame his mama for what happened. She loves him, and she had  _ kits _ , for StarClan’s sake, she couldn’t have had the time to take care of them and keep an eye on her last kit that was plenty big enough to take care of himself. 

And, well. When he puts it like that. Every cat in the Clan has a  _ life _ , and it’s not as if he was close to any of the warriors before, except for Longtail. So.

He doesn’t like not having anywhere to turn, no one to pin the dogs on. 

Cinderpelt speaks up. “You’re thinking about how much having no one to blame sucks.”

Dogscar almost laughs. “Yes.”

“It’s okay. It’s...well. I can’t say I understand, exactly, because my accident was laid out by Tigerstar, way back, so I always...I had that. But I can imagine.”

Dogscar is nodding along when the scent of blood hits his nose. “Hang on. What’s that?”

Cinderpelt pauses. “That smells like blood.”

Without waiting for a response she breaks into a run, and Dogscar races after her, passing her in a breath and dodging through the trees until he finds it. The rabbit. 

“It’s prey!” he calls to Cinderpelt. The desperate crash of her uneven gate through the undergrowth slows somewhat, and then she appears. 

“What? Why is it just...out in the open like this?”

Dogscar doesn’t answer, pushing through the forest a few paces more, where another rabbit lays. Beyond that, another. Cinderpelt hobbles after him.

“There’s cat scent on these rabbits,” she says. “ShadowClan. Tigerstar.”

“Something’s wrong,” Dogscar tells the rabbits’ bloody corpses.

Somewhere in the forest, a scream splits the air.

-0-0-0- 

It’s Brindleface. 

Cloudtail found her, apparently, along with Fireheart and Sandstorm.

Staring at her body, at the end of the trail of rabbits, right near the camp, Dogscar’s first thought after the buzzing blankness in his head fades is that at least it wasn’t Brightpaw. His second thought is that at least it wasn't Fernpaw or Ashpaw. 

“She was killed deliberately. The end of the trail. These aren’t the marks of another animal’s attack,” Fireheart murmurs.

“That’s Tigerstar’s scent all over her,” Cloudtail snarls. “And his fur in her claws.”

Dogscar bristles. “He murdered her and left her for us to find. Why?”

“It’s a message,” Sandstorm says quietly.

“It’s a trap,” Fireheart says. “If Tigerstar just wanted us to find Brindleface he wouldn’t have bothered with the rabbit trail. This is a trail for the dogs.”

“He’s leading them right to us. Giving them a taste for cat blood by giving them Brindleface,” Cinderpelt whispers. 

Cloudtail lashes his tail, trembling with violence. “He killed her to  _ feed  _ her to those monsters like a piece of prey. We ought to lead a patrol to ShadowClan territory  _ now _ , show every single cat exactly what he’s capable of-“

“Not yet,” Fireheart said. “Not while the dogs are still out there with a trail leading straight to us. We can take the rabbits away, dump them in the river, but their blood is already here, the pack can still follow it.”

Sandstorm shakes her head. “Such a waste of prey.”

“What, were you planning to eat it?” Dogscar asks. The thought of eating any of these rabbits, carefully slaughtered to lead ThunderClan to their death, makes his stomach turn. 

“We have enough prey in the forest to do without them,” Cinderpelt adds. “Let’s get Brindleface’s body back to camp, and Fireheart, I assume you’ll want a patrol to take care of the rabbits. Dogscar, with me. We have to prepare Brindleface for burial.”

“We?” Dogscar asks. “I’m not a medicine cat.”

“You know enough, and I need some help if we’re going to have a battle soon. Clans are supposed to have more than one medicine cat.”

Cloudtail and Sandstorm gently pick up Brindleface’s body and start to carry her towards camp. The rest of them follow more slowly. 

“I’ll take care of the, ah, herbs for Brindleface,” Cinderpelt says softly. “You go with Cloudtail and Fernpaw and Ashpaw. They’ll need some support right now. Then we’ll go for herbs, as far from Snakerocks as we can get.”

Dogscar nods once and picks up the pace to walk beside Cloudtail as Cinderpelt veers off toward her den. 

Brindleface’s body is laid in the middle of camp as every cat slowly gathers around. Out of the corner of his eye Dogscar sees flashes of white and gray, hears Fernpaw ask, “What’s going on?” and then-

“ _ Mom _ !” Ashpaw yowls, breaking through a few warriors and running forward. 

Fernpaw is just a heartbeat after him, skidding to a halt in front of Brindleface. Cloudtail sits beside them, curls his tail around them and hooks his chin over Fernpaw’s head. 

“There was nothing we could do,” he whispers. “She was dead when we found her. Tigerstar...Tigerstar laid a trail of rabbits for the dogs to follow and left her at the end of it to give them a taste for cat blood.”

Dogscar winces. He wouldn’t have laid it out exactly like that. 

“The dogs are coming here?” Fernpaw asks. “Will we have to fight them, too?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe. It depends what Fireheart and Bluestar decide to do.”

“I’m going to fight the dogs,” Ashpaw growled. “I’ll kill them all. And then I’ll go to ShadowClan and I’ll kill Tigerstar. Mom’s dead. She’s  _ dead  _ and it’s his fault.”

Dogscar pads around to Ashpaw’s other side. “Ashpaw. You know you can’t do that. The dogs are huge and we have no chance against them if we try to fight them head on. Even with all our warriors. They’re much bigger than badgers or foxes and twice as dangerous. And good warriors don’t kill other cats unless they absolutely have to.”

“Tigerstar killed my mom. He tried to kill everyone. He deserves it.”

Dogscar tips his head. “Yeah, yeah he does. But you’re better than him, right Ashpaw? You’re a better cat than he is, so you don’t kill. You follow the code.”

“I guess,” Ashpaw grumbles. “But, if I  _ was  _ fighting him and I  _ did  _ need to kill him, that would be okay?”

Dogscar isn’t even going to argue that, not with Brindleface’s bloody body in front of him and the knowledge that if he saw Tigerstar right now he would do the same thing. “Sure. If it came to that. But if you do fight Tigerstar, you’ll need backup. He’s trained his whole life to be the best warrior in the forest.”

Ashpaw nods seriously and Dogscar glances over at Cloudtail. The white warrior has Fernpaw’s face buried in the thick ruff of his fur, and his own eyes are full of tears as he stares at the cat who raised him. Dogscar brushes against Ashpaw and stands up. As he does, Cinderpelt reappears with bundles of mint and lavender in her mouth, silently nodding to Brindleface’s kits as she passes them and starting to lay the flowers out. Around her wounds first, covering the blood in purple and green, then tucked between her forepaws and in a crown around her head. Dogscar has to look away as he comes to Cloudtail’s other side.

“Cloudtail,” he says softly. “You okay?”

Cloudtail grits his teeth and looks away. “Fine. It’s not like she was my real mother or anything, right? Not like Fern or Ash.”

“Uh-huh,” Dogscar says, letting skepticism color his tone. “And that means that she couldn’t love you and you couldn’t love her, right? Not as much as they do, anyway.”

“It sounds stupid when you say it like that,” Cloudtail says with the barest hint of a wet smile. 

“Lots of things sound right in your head until someone else is saying them,” Dogscar says softly. “Really, though. Are you okay?”

“My mom’s dead,” Cloudtail whispers. “Not the way she was supposed to be, either. She was supposed to live her whole life as a warrior, maybe have another litter,  _ retire _ . She deserved that. Someone  _ took _ that. So no, I’m not exactly okay.”

Dogscar looks at his own paws. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“What do you care, anyway?” Cloudtail asks. “It’s not like you  _ like  _ me.”

Dogscar refuses to be hurt by that. He hasn’t exactly been friendly with Cloudtail, before the dogs or after. But he remembers Cloudtail curling around him and breathing when he could have ignored him, probably  _ should  _ have ignored him. He moves a little closer so he’s pressed against Cloudtail, wraps what remains of his tail around him. 

Somehow he doesn’t think  _ breathing  _ is quite the right solution here. “We’ll get him, Cloudtail. Him and any other cat who works with him. I promise.”

“Yeah,” Cloudtail says, low and dangerous. “He’s going to die, and when he does….I hope it’s painful.”

Before Dogscar can say anything else Cloudtail hangs his head. “That’s a terrible thing to wish on a cat, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Dogscar agrees, “but if anyone deserves it, it’s Tigerstar.”

“I just...I can’t imagine what this is like for Fern. For both if them, of course, but she just lost her mentor after he tried to murder a kit, and now this? She’s not even a warrior yet.”

Dogscar frowns. “I almost forgot Darkstripe was Fernpaw’s mentor. Did she get another one yet?” 

“Yeah, yesterday, weren’t you—I guess you were with Sorrelkit, actually.” Cloudtail shakes his head. “She got Frostfur, who’s actually the only warrior left without an apprentice except Brackenfur, and he’s basically guaranteed Snowkit.”

Cloudtail nods toward the nursery. Speckletail is curled protectively around Snowkit, but Brackenfur is sitting next to him, flicking his tail so the kit can attack it. 

“Dogscar?” Cinderpelt says quietly. “Fireheart is leading the attack tonight, before the dogs have time to discover the trail.”

Dogscar looks up at the just-darkening sky. “Leading an attack on the dog pack at night? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“It’s what you did, isn’t it? Bluestar and Fireheart have a plan. If we hurry it won't be fully dark before we’re finished.”

Dogscar glances at Cloudtail and slowly follows Cinderpelt out of the camp. She picks up the pace until she’s moving as quickly as she can. 

“With any luck, we won’t have many injuries, but obviously if you can prepare for a battle beforehand, it’s better. So you can go collect cobwebs and I’ll get some marigold, and that should be good enough to treat any injuries tonight.”

Before she can split and run a different direction, Dogscar says, “You should really get another medicine cat. I’m going to be a warrior again soon.”

Cinderpelt sloss to a stop. “You know, that’s the first time you’ve actually said that since the dog attack.”

Dogscar shrugs. “Where’s the marigold patch?”

Cinderpelt jerks her chin into the trees. “Farthest one from Snakerocks is a pretty straight shot that way. Get as much as you can and meet me back at camp.”

Dogscar nods once and darts off into the trees. The forest seems sick and strange in the dull twilight, with the threat of the pack at his heels and no Clanmates at his side. Every rustle in the leaves makes him slide to a stumbling halt as he glances over his shoulder, every crack of a twig makes him flinch so hard he nearly falls. With Cinderpelt, with Longtail, it’s  _ different _ , he’s not alone. And with night looming the shadows are deeper and dread coils in his stomach. The pack has never had rabbit trails leading them to camp and cat blood fresh in their noses.

The marigold flowers seem unnaturally bright in the forest—it’s not even that dark yet, but it feels it. Dogscar skids to a stop and starts tearing the stems from the ground as fast as he can, until he has a bundle almost too big to fit in his mouth. Then he races back to camp, somehow feeling better with every step despite the fact that it brings him ever closer to the trap Tigerstar laid. 

In camp, Cinderpelt is already in her den, checking the stores and adding another nest for wounded cats to lay in. Dogscar drops his bundle of marigold on the ground and dips his head to her before turning to find Longtail. His mentor is standing with the others as Fireheart and Bluestar explain their plan to lead the dogs to the river.

“Hey,” Dogscar whispers as he joins them.

“You’re joining the attack?” Longtail asks. “Dogscar, are you sure-“

“ _ Yes _ , I’m sure,” Dogscar says, with a touch of a growl. 

“Okay.” Longtail nods, but Dogscar is still fairly certain he’s about to be protected like a kit for the rest of the night. 

“Alright,” Fireheart says. “I’ll be waiting at the steepest part of the gorge. Whitestorm, Mousefur, Thornpaw, Graystripe, you’ll be at the first position, and lead the dogs to Longtail and...Dogscar, along with Cloudtail and Brightpaw. Bluestar will lead you to me. Sandstorm and Brackenfur will stay behind to help guard the nursery. Dustpelt and Frostfur will take their apprentices to Sunningrocks. Is everyone clear on their positions?”

Dogscar raises his voice with the others in the affirmative and glances at Longtail. Despite everything, adrenaline and the promise of a fight thrums in his veins already. He used to live for this. He’s ready.

“For Brindleface!” Ashpaw howls as they start to run out of camp. 

Dogscar’s face splits in a grin as Fernpaw and Cloudtail add their voices to the cry, and then he joins in with the rest of the Clan as they stream into the forest to take back their home.

For Brindleface. For Brightpaw. For Cloudtail, for Ashpaw, for Fernpaw. And maybe...

Maybe for Dogscar, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re off to fight the dogs! 
> 
> This fic is nearing it’s end in what I have written (I’m on chapter 14), so I finally put a final chapter count up! It might change in the future, but I think that’s it. And friendly reminder that I’m writing this fic to practice things, especially my pacing, so constructive criticism is always welcome here! See y’all next Wednesday!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ThunderClan confronts the dog pack.

Standing in the forest, listening to the distant howls and the crash of a dozen bodies through the undergrowth, poised to chase the pack to their deaths, is the worst thing Dogscar has ever had to do. They picked a good spot, perched atop a huge fallen tree across a decently open space. They’ll be able to see the dogs coming and the tree should slow them down at least a little. Dogscar shifts in his spot on the tree, digging his claws into the bark as he looks around. Cloudtail is glaring directly at the brush where the pack is meant to emerge, half in front of Brightpaw like his body and an extra breath of time would save her. 

Brightpaw catches his eye. “You scared?” she whispers.

“No,” Dogscar lies.

Brightpaw swallows. “Me neither.”

The sharp snap of a nearby stick makes all four of them prick their ears and freeze. The pack has arrived.

Graystripe bursts through first, the rest of his group right on his heels. Dogscar only has half a heartbeat to look before he whips around, but no one looks injured, thank StarClan.

“Everyone okay?” Longtail yowls as they start running.

“Fine!” Bluestar yowls back, breathless. “They haven’t caught us yet!”

_ Yet _ . Dogscar thinks, sparing a glance at his Clanmates. The dogs are bigger, and faster, and the first group is already out of breath. They won’t be able to keep this up forever, but if any of them were to try and veer away to escape, they could split up the pack. 

They just have to get to Fireheart at the gorge. Dogscar lowers his head, puts on an extra burst of speed and pulls to the front of the group. They just have to ignore the howls and the snapping teeth and the fact that one wrong step could mean  _ death _ and just...just make it to the gorge.

Someone screeches, in pain or terror or both, and Dogscar nearly breaks his neck turning to look. Thornpaw is running a step or two behind the others, and clearly favoring one leg. Mousefur drops back behind her apprentice and jumps, twisting in the air and slashing her claws down the pack leader’s muzzle. She lands her hind paws on the dog’s face and pushes off, hitting the ground at a run again. 

The dog shakes its head and keeps going, but the attack cost it, and the pack, a few precious heartbeats, enough for Thornpaw to catch up to the rest of the patrol. 

Dogscar looks ahead again. Through the trees he can just start to hear the crash of water, and when he bounds over a jutting rock he can see a dark shape that must be Fireheart. 

“We’re almost there!” he yowls.

A few seconds later they crash through the bracken to Fireheart and the edge of the gorge is in front of them. Fireheart starts to run.

Out of nowhere a dark shape barrels into the deputy’s side. Dogscar forgets the danger of splitting the pack and leaving some dogs alive, diving out of the way after him. Behind him, Longtail shouts, “Dogscar!”

Tigerstar leaps away from Fireheart as Dogscar reaches them, already snarling. He leaps for the ShadowClan leader, but Tigerstar twists away from his grip with only minor scratches and slashes at Dogscar’s face before racing away. Back to ShadowClan territory or just to a safe distance to watch, Dogscar never finds out, because in the next instant a dog has him by the scruff, lifting him into the air.

His first thought is that at least it was only his scruff. His second is something along the lines of  _ please, not again. _

Someone, or several someones, are screaming his name, and the dog shakes him and flings him away. 

The back of his neck stings, and blood on his forehead is dripping down his face, and the dogs are howling  _ everywhere _ and Dogscar doesn’t know what’s happening. The forest is dark, dark, dark, just after sunset or just before dawn? He can’t tell, can’t think, can’t remember. His body aches, but is it his skin torn to pieces or just his scars twinging from being thrown?

There are bodies around him, and something touches his shoulder. He lurches, wild, stumbles up to his paws and away, shaking his head, trying to get the blood out of his eyes to face his attackers.

“Dogscar! It’s just us, it’s okay!” 

Brightpaw. Brightpaw. He knows—he knows that. But which one? Before or after? Is there a difference? Which is which?

“The pack is in the river,” Cloudtail says, and that, that wasn’t in the forest the first time. It wasn’t.

Dogscar clings to that. 

“Bluestar is too,” Longtail says quietly, and  _ that  _ gets Dogscar’s attention enough to focus. “We don’t know...it might be her last life. Fireheart dove after her, so now we just. We wait.”

Right. Dogscar’s eyes drift back to Cloudtail, a shock of white in the dark, and before he can stop himself or think better of it he’s pressing himself against the white tom.

“Dogscar?” Cloudtail asks. “What’re you—oh. Hey, it’s okay. Bet it’s hard to see with that blood, though.” 

A tongue rasps over his face and Dogscar closes his eyes. When he opens them, his vision isn’t red anymore and the dogs are gone and his legs are trembling. 

Brightpaw comes to stand at his other side, bracing. “You did good,” she murmurs. “The dogs are gone. It’s okay. We’re safe now.” 

They’re not, though. Through the haze of his memory, which is mostly flashes and blank spots, Dogscar remembers seeing Tigerstar. He looks up as Brightpaw swipes her tongue over his cheek. “Where’d Tigerstar go?”

“It’s okay. Some warriors chased him off as soon as the dogs were gone. Even he isn’t stupid enough to take one four or five of us,” Cloudtail says.

Dogscar can only nod dimly to that. The threat is gone for now, but what about later? If Tigerstar could gather the dog pack, kill Brindleface just to lay a trap….he could do anything. What happened next might be worse, and the thought makes him sick.

“C’mon,” Brightpaw says at last, worry coloring her tone. “Let’s get back to camp. Standing around here won’t change what’s going on in the gorge, and Cinderpelt should take a look at you.”

Dogscar gives a halfhearted shake of his head, already knowing he’s going to lose. “It’s just a little scratch, it’s not that bad.”

“You know that’s not the only reason,” Cloudtail tells him, but it’s gentle. 

Dogscar sighs and relents, and they walk back to camp, Longtail following loosely behind them. Except for when the terrain requires it they stay close to his sides, so their pelts all brush, and Dogscar can’t quite manage to say he can walk just fine on his own, thank you. The company is...it’s nice. 

“Hey! Hey, Longtail, hold on!” Mousefur calls from behind them. 

Brightpaw, Dogscar, and Cloudtail all pause to look back, and see Mousefur and Thornpaw making their way through the trees, Thornpaw leaning on Mousefur and clearly limping. 

“Think I twisted my leg,” he says a bit ruefully as they get closer. 

“You did a good job running on it like you did,” Longtail tells him. 

Thornpaw beams at him and they keep walking, more slowly this time. When they finally reach the camp, it’s to Cinderpelt pacing nervously in front of the medicine cat den and Brackenfur and Sandstorm distracting the younger cats with a game by the nursery. All of them come over immediately when they notice their Clanmates’ return. 

“Where are the others?” Cinderpelt asks, already looking behind them for the rest of ThunderClan. 

“They’re coming. Tigerstar showed up, so some warriors are making sure he’s left now, along with any other ShadowClan cats he might have brought along,” Longtail says with a flick of his tail. “The dogs all drowned in the river, and Bluestar and Fireheart….we aren’t exactly sure-“

Brackenfur interrupts. “Sure of what?” 

“Bluestar was carried over the edge of the gorge along with the pack leader. Firestar jumped in to save her, but they were swept downstream pretty far. The warriors at Sunningrocks went after them, so we just...have to wait, now, to see what’s happened,” Mousefur reports.

Cinderpelt hovers for a moment, shocked, then nods to Dogscar and Thornpaw. “These the only wounded?” 

“As far as we know,” Longtail says grimly. 

“Okay. The two of you, come with me. The rest of you can eat or wait for the others or help Brackenfur and Sandstorm distract the little ones.” Cinderpelt takes Mousefur’s place supporting Thornpaw and heads back to her den. 

Dogscar hesitates a moment, not quite ready to leave whatever world he’s in where Cloudtail and Brightpaw are pressed against him when he doesn’t exactly have the excuse of needing the support. Then Brightpaw licks his ear and Cloudtail bumps his shoulder comfortingly and they all three slip apart at about the same time.

Then Dogscar ducks into the medicine den and Cinderpelt immediately asks him to grab some broom and make a poultice. 

“Still not a medicine cat,” Dogscar reminds her, even as he automatically scans the stores. “What is that, anyway, I don’t remember you using it.” 

“Small leaves, little yellow flowers. It can help soothe broken bones. Yellowfang used it on me. I don’t think this leg is broken, but the same principles apply,” Cinderpelt explains. 

Dogscar finds the broom and starts chewing some of it into a poultice. While he does Cinderpelt get a little marigold to make a poultice of her own, which she applies to the scratches on Dogscar’s face along with some cobweb. 

Between chewing up leaves, Dogscar says, “I thought you were meant to treat the worst injury first.”

“I was waiting on the broom,” Cinderpelt informs him, scooping up some of the poultice he’s made to gently apply to Thornpaw’s leg.

Thornpaw winces as she finishes with the poultice and begins to wrap his leg in a thick swath of cobwebs. 

“We won’t need any sticks to splint the leg, hopefully,” she says. “Thornpaw, I’m going to give you some poppy seeds and have you stay here overnight so I can keep an eye on you.”

Thornpaw nods and licks up the tiny black seeds that are offered to him before struggling to his paws and back to one of the nests. Dogscar takes the opportunity to look back outside. Longtail and Mousefur are sitting close together, heads bent, alternating between watching the camp entrance anxiously and watching the medicine den just as anxiously. Brackenfur and Sandstorm have returned to playing with their apprentices and the kits, and Brightpaw and Cloudtail…

Brightpaw and Cloudtail are huddled together, so close there’s no space left between them, tucked together like, well. Almost like mates. And Dogscar can’t exactly tell if the little pang in his chest when Cloudtail licks at Brightpaw’s ear is softness or jealousy or some mix of both. 

There’s more rustling in the woods just at that moment, and every single cat’s head swivels to the sound. Cinderpelt appears in a heartbeat at Dogscar’s side, and then they come in. All of ThunderClan. And two strangers.

From where he’s standing Dogscar can just catch the scent of RiverClan on the two blue-gray cats walking beside Fireheart, but that’s not the important part. The important part is the equally blue-gray body the three of them are carrying. 

“Is she-“ Cinderpelt starts, and then stops when Fireheart looks at her. 

“She made her peace with StarClan before she died,” he says roughly. “We’ll hold a vigil for her tonight and then I’ll go to the Moonstone tomorrow.”

“What about…?” Longtail trails off, waving his tail vaguely at the RiverClan cats. 

“This is Mistyfoot and Stonefur,” Fireheart says. 

“Bluestar is— _ was _ —our mother,” Mistyfoot murmurs.

A little shocked gasp runs through the cats. Cinderpelt shoulders past Dogscar, but not because of the announcement. Her mouth is already full of mint and lavender, all business as she heads to the center of camp. Fireheart, Mistyfoot, and Stonefur lay Bluestar’s body down and ThunderClan slowly creeps closer to her as Cinderpelt arranges her herbs.

Dogscar peers at Mistyfoot and Stonefur as they bend over their mother’s body. Stonefur presses his nose to Bluestar’s neck, his whole body shuddering. Mistyfoot leans comfortingly against her brother, lapping at his cheek. 

“You’re both welcome to stay and keep vigil for her,” Fireheart offers softly.

Stonefur takes an audible breath and straightens. “No. We shouldn’t...she was your leader. We barely knew her. And RiverClan will be wondering where we are. Their deputy spending a night away from camp...it’s not exactly the best idea.”

“But she’s your  _ mother _ , surely if you explained-“ Fireheart tries.

“She gave us away,” Mistyfoot says, shaking her head. She holds up her tail to stop both Fireheart and Stonefur’s protests. “I know she had her reasons, and I won’t condemn her for them, but a few minutes by a river doesn’t change  _ everything _ . We’ve paid our respects. We’ll leave your Clan now to do the same.”

Fireheart dips his head to the two RiverClan cats as they leave. Dogscar joins the Rest of ThunderClan as they prepare to pay their last respects. Whitestorm is the first to step up, ducking his head to press his muzzle to the top of Bluestar’s head. He whispers something Dogscar can’t—probably shouldn’t—hear and moves to sit next to her, where he’ll keep vigil until dawn. 

Fireheart and Cinderpelt follow and join Whitestorm at their fallen leader’s side. Dogscar drifts slowly over to where Brightpaw and Cloudtail are still standing together.

“Are you going up?” Brightpaw whispers. 

Dogscar looks at Bluestar. He...he doesn’t know. He knows that she was...complicated. That she wasn’t entirely evil or cruel, just scared and angry. It doesn’t change what she did to him and Brightpaw, but it’s much harder to hate her when she’s dead on the ground, having sacrificed herself for all their sakes.

Brightpaw and Cloudtail are still looking at him, and Dogscar finally nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I will. Are you…?”

They both nod together and start walking, and before Dogscar can even really think about it he’s staring down at Bluestar, her head wreathed in lavender. She looks so different in death, with her fur still damp from the river showing every bone of her body. Dogscar lowers his head in the best show of respect he can manage, but all he can think is how  _ thin  _ Bluestar is. Wasn’t there anyone to notice, to help? 

Cinderpelt and Fireheart tried, he thinks, and that’s the scariest part. That cats were trying to help Bluestar and failing until all that was left was her thin, half-drowned body on a riverbank.

Shaking the dark thoughts from his head, Dogscar straightens and walks past the cats sitting vigil, nodding to them all. Cinderpelt meets his eyes as he passes her, something unreadable in her gaze. 

Dogscar looks back for a few heartbeats and glances away at the last second. 

“Hey, we were moving into the warriors den tonight,” Brightpaw says, drawing his attention back to her.

Dogscar nods, looking over at the den as warriors slowly slip into it, and heads to the medicine den to fetch some bedding. Entering the warriors den for the first time after so many delays feels monumental, so much so that Dogscar actually pauses outside it, just to think for a moment. He is a warrior now, and technically so is Brightpaw, even without her name. With everything else that happened today, it feels silly that  _ this  _ is still so big and important, but it is. 

The warriors den was everything Dogscar wanted, his whole reason for the dog attack. He glances one last time at Brightpaw and Cloudtail and finally ducks into the den. 

It’s not very crowded, which only speaks to how many cats they’ve lost recently. Not just the ones that died in the fire, but Tigerstar and Darkstripe and Brindleface, as well. As Dogscar makes his nest he thinks about Snowkit and Sorrelkit and her brothers and what good warriors they’ll make, one day. 

Or maybe medicine cats. Cinderpelt does need an apprentice, after all. 

Without speaking the three of them arrange their nests together in the outermost ring of warriors, tucked so close that when they lay down they’re just about touching. Dogscar watches Brightpaw stretch out and roll onto her back to blink sleepily up at him.

“Hi,” she whispers. “Welcome to being a warrior.”

“Hey,” he replies, softly. 

“Do you…” Brightpaw’s mouth twists a bit, unsure, “do you think you’ll be able to fight? I know you probably don’t wanna talk about it, but ever since, you know, the dogs, you’ve been...well. You know.”

“Yeah,” Dogscar says quietly. “I don’t know.”

“You could always be a medicine cat, Cloudtail whispers. “If the warrior thing didn’t work out.”

Brightpaw’s eyes grow huge. “Cloudtail! Don’t say that.”

Dogscar shrugs. “He’s not...wrong. I’m good at it, I think. Cinderpelt’s been sneakily training me, I think. But I don’t know. Being a warrior is all I ever wanted, right? So if I give that up, doesn’t it make the whole dog attack for nothing?”

“No way. For one, you discovered what was at Snakerocks before any other cat. And you were the only one to really fight what Bluestar was doing then.” Brightpaw rolls back onto her belly and straightens up to look at him properly.

“You were so brave that day, Dogscar, and so strong,” Cloudtail says. “None of that could ever be a waste. If you wanted to be a medicine cat, you’d be more than entitled to it, I think. You’ve had enough fighting for a whole lifetime.”

Dogscar scoffs at that last bit. “Yeah, okay.”

“We’re serious, Dogscar,” Brightpaw insists, and then wrinkles her nose. “Another question, though. Are you...it’s completely up to you, I mean, but are you really going to keep Dogscar forever?” 

“Not like I have many other options.” He shrugs.

“But if you could change it? Maybe back to Swift?” she presses.

Dogscar just shrugs again. “Maybe. I dunno. Not like it’s gonna happen, so.”

Brightpaw doesn’t exactly look satisfied with that answer, but she nods and lays her head on her forepaws. “Okay, well, whatever you decide, about any of it, it’s going to be great.”

Dogscar hums as he curls up as well. Cloudtail nudges him gently with his nose.

“She’s right, you know,” he whispers. “But you don’t have to decide anything right now. Go to sleep, we can talk in the morning.”

Dogscar doesn’t even get a chance to respond to that, because Cloudtail immediately lays down and curls his impossibly fluffy tail over his face. He just blinks a little in confusion at  _ we can talk in the morning _ . He guesses a battle that could’ve easily ended all their lives has pushed them a bit closer than before. To a place where they sleep together. Discuss Dogscar’s future, his name, whatever. A place where they can talk to each other  _ later _ , where they have a guaranteed later with one another.

He’s not sure why that’s important, but it feels important. 

Dogscar smiles a bit to himself and finally goes to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very, very slowly....the OT3 comes together. 
> 
> We’re nearly done! I kinda burnt out on writing after I did 5k a day, so I haven’t worked on this for a few days, but it’s coming along. As always, comments and kudos are the best and I appreciate every single one of them!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swiftpaw has another training session that goes wrong, and right, and wrong again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late I'm so sorry! I completely didn't even think about it until about five minutes ago when I realized it was Thursday. Oops. Forgive me? Anyway, it's here now, for your reading pleasure. 
> 
> (Friendly reminder that the timeline of this fic is a mess so just...don't worry about it.)

In the morning, Dogscar blinks awake to find himself in a slightly different position than the night before. Brightpaw has somehow managed to wriggle her muzzle under his chin and Cloudtail’s head is on his haunches, with his forepaws resting in Dogscar’s back legs. Neither of them is awake, and Dogscar holds very still while he debates trying to extract himself without disturbing them or just feigning sleep until they wake up.

From the other side of the den, Dustpelt stands up, stretches, and shakes the moss from his pelt before picking his way across the sleeping warriors. He knocks into Cloudtail a bit as he passes and Cloudtail grunts, lifting his head. He looks around the den for a moment before his gaze lands on Dogscar and he grins, just a little. 

“Morning,” Cloudtail says softly.

Dogscar lifts his head to avoid disturbing Brightpaw when he responds. “Hey there.”

“You know, if you’re not doing anything today, we could all go hunting together,” Cloudtail offers. 

And Dogscar almost says yes, but- “I don’t know. I still can’t fight any cat properly. Longtail probably wants to help me train some more, especially after last night.”

“Oh,” Cloudtail’s ears flatten a little in disappointment. “Hey, we could come with you? Be your sparring partners?”

“I don’t think so,” Dogscar says, shaking his head. The pair of them have seen him falling apart in a fight too many times already.

“What about sparring partners?” Brightpaw yawns, lifting her head up some. “Are we sparring today?”

“Dogscar doesn’t want us to,” Cloudtail tells her, and Brightpaw deflates a bit. 

It’s early in the morning, and Dogscar just woke up, so that’s exactly what he’s going to use as his excuse for caving immediately. He’s not awake enough to deal with Brightpaw’s disappointed face looking up at him.

“I never said that,” he says defensively, and Brightpaw grins, which makes Cloudtail’s little snort worth it. “If...If you really  _ want _ , I guess, it could be okay.”

“What, so Brightpaw can convince you, but not me?” Cloudtail asks, mock-pouting at him.

“Well,” Dogscar tells him, flicking him in the face with his tail as he stands. “She  _ is  _ prettier than you.”

Brightpaw makes a little choked sound, but when Dogscar glances down at her she’s licking at her chest fur, almost like she’s embarrassed. He decides against calling her out on it and just brushes lightly against her as he pads out of the den and into the sunlight. 

Bluestar’s body is already gone, probably carried off for burial by the elders earlier in the morning. Dogscar looks around for Longtail and spots Fireheart and Cinderpelt instead, over by the medicine den. He guesses they’re about to head out for the Moonstone, and trots over with the vague idea of saying goodbye. It occurs to him, halfway across camp, that none of the other warriors seem concerned with bidding their medicine cat and almost-leader farewell.

Well. He’s not exactly like the other warriors, he doesn’t think, and at any rate he’s closer to Cinderpelt than most anyone else outside of his family. And Brightpaw and Cloudtail, of course. 

“Hey, Cinderpelt,” he says as he reaches them. A second too late he remembers Fireheart and dips his head to him awkwardly.

Fireheart gives him a small, reassuring smile and touches his tail to Cinderpelt’s shoulder before wandering over to the camp entrance.

“Hi, Dogscar,” Cinderpelt says. “Something wrong? I have to go if we want to be at the Moonstone by sundown, but I can spare a few minutes if-“

Dogscar cuts her off quickly as she starts to work up into a proper worried frown. “No, nothing like that, I’m fine. I was just coming to say goodbye.”

Now that the words are out there, he’s aware that he sounds a bit stupid, and flexes his claws uncomfortably. Cinderpelt breaks into a smile.

“Oh, okay. We’ll be back tomorrow, hopefully before sunhigh. Actually,” she flicks her tail lightly, “I know you’re a proper warrior now and all, but you  _ are  _ probably the only one around here with a good knowledge of herbs, and I’ll be gone for about two days with no apprentice here, so if you could just take over while I’m gone?”

Dogscar glances over his shoulder at Cloudtail and Brightpaw, who are standing together uncertainly and not-so-subtly watching him. He  _ wants _ to help Cinderpelt, he does, but being a medicine cat for two days?

“It wouldn’t be like really being a medicine cat,” Cinderpelt assures him. “Just, it would really make me feel better to know some cat around here knew what to give a cat with a fever. Probably nothing will happen while I’m gone, but, I worry.”

She flashes him a bit of a self-deprecating smile and shrugs. “If you’re too busy or don’t want to, that’s alright.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Dogscar says quickly. “I can do it. Not like much will happen in two days while you’re gone anyway.”

Cinderpelt nods gratefully. “Thanks, Dogscar. Now, I really do have to go, and I’m sure there are things you were going to do today, so I should get going!”

He dips his head to her with a quiet, “Goodbye, stay safe,” and turns away. 

Longtail has arrived to talk to Cloudtail and Brightpaw, and Dogscar bounds over to join them.

“Hi, Dogscar,” Longtail says, and though it’s lighter than most of their recent interactions, there’s a tenseness there that didn’t exist before the dog attack, and Dogscar feels a stab of guilt. 

“We were just making sure it was okay with Longtail for us to help you with some sparring practice today,” Brightpaw says. “It is, by the way.”

“What were you talking to Cinderpelt about?” asks Cloudtail with a jerk of his chin to indicate the medicine den. 

Dogscar waves his tail, dismissive. “Nothing. So are we going to train now?”

“We can start slower, with a hunting session if you want,” Longtail offers.

It’s an out, a way for Dogscar to avoid fighting and  _ whatever  _ it is that he still needs to work on. He shakes his head.

“No. Sparring.”

Longtail glances at him sideways. Dogscar stares back at him until he looks away and nods toward the camp entrance. “Okay. Let’s get going, then.”

The four of them start walking, Brightpaw and Cloudtail quickly taking the lead and running ahead together. Dogscar presses down on the little twinge of jealousy that gives him and is just about to try chasing after them when Longtail speaks up.

“I’m not like him, you know,” Longtail says quietly. “Darkstripe. I don’t follow Tigerstar anymore. And I would never hurt a kit.”

Dogscar reels back to look at him. It’s been a couple of days since the incident with Sorrelkit, which simultaneously feels like forever and no time at all, with everything that’s happened. He never even considered—he knows Longtail used to be one of Tigerstar’s group. He also knows Longtail didn’t leave with him, that his mentor is better than that. Dogscar knows Longtail isn’t like Darkstripe. 

“Yeah, I know,” he says finally after a few seconds too many of gaping at his mentor. “I wasn’t…I didn’t think that.”

“I just wanted to make sure. I’ve seen you with Sorrelkit, and after my past...I just wanted to make sure.” Longtail ducks his head away. 

They’ve nearly reached the training hollow, Brightpaw and Cloudtail just visible where they’re tussling together. Before they get within earshot Dogscar blurts out, “I’m sorry.”

Longtail stops. “What?”

“For what I said. After I woke up. When I told you it was your fault.”

Longtail shakes his head. “No, you were right. If I’d tried harder to make sure you became a warrior, or made sure you didn’t do anything stupid that night-“

“You didn’t know,” Dogscar interrupts. “No one knew what we were going to do but me and the other apprentices. I know Bluestar was your leader. I know she’s...she wasn’t a good leader, not if she could do what she did to me and Brightpaw.”

“She didn’t believe in StarClan anymore, I don’t think.” Longtail says. 

“Really?” Dogscar had thought that was the case, maybe, but it’s a completely different thing to hear it said aloud. “So she liked Cloudtail because he doesn’t believe in StarClan, either.”

“Right.”

“So she really would never have made us warriors,” Dogscar says slowly.

“You can’t know that, I never even tried-“

“Shut up,” Dogscar says, and then winces. “Sorry. I just…you dont think the attack was my fault, do you?”

Longtail bristles. “Of course not! You were pushed aside and angry and you had no idea what kind of threat you were facing. None of it is your fault. You did your best and you survived, and that’s what matters.”

“So if it’s not my fault, it’s not your fault, either,” Dogscar says firmly. “That’s the deal. It’s both of our faults or neither.”

“I-“ Longtail spluttered for a moment. “Okay. Fine.”

Dogscar grins a little. “So what’s the verdict? Both or neither?”

“You know I can never blame you or Brightpaw for what happened,” Longtail says. “If any cat is to blame it’s Tigerstar. We saw him feeding the dogs. You found his scent all over those rabbits. He was  _ there  _ when we drove the dogs to the gorge.”

Dogscar nods, and then they’re at the training hollow and he doesn’t get the chance to say anything else. Cloudtail and Brightpaw break apart instantly, springing to their feet. 

“So, we’re going to start off with something easy,” Longtail announces. “So Cloudtail, I want you and Dogscar to fight, but  _ no  _ pinning each other, and claws sheathed, obviously.”

Dogscar glares at his mentor. If Longtail counts as his mentor anymore. “You don’t need to treat me like a kit.”

“Of course not. We’re just going slow, because clearly what we tried in the past was not the best method. If you’re successful with this, we’ll move on,” Longtail says easily. 

With a small growl under his breath, Dogscar turns back to Cloudtail. He lashes his tail, determined to succeed at this  _ stupidly _ easy little fight. Because he has to show everyone that the dog fight didn’t ruin him. He has to be a warrior.

He  _ has  _ to. 

Cloudtail springs for him and Dogscar instinctively dodges, every instinct screaming, just for a heartbeat, that his enemy is too big and too dangerous for him to fight, that his only option is to run. He shakes his head violently and throws himself back at Cloudtail, swatting one paw into the tom’s muzzle.

Cloudtail’s head snaps to the side with the force of it and he grins openmouthed, pushing forward and battering Dogscar’s shoulders with his paws as Dogscar falls back. 

He steps sideways to avoid the blows and ignores the tightness growing in his chest. It’s just a practice fight. It’s just Cloudtail. They’re barely even allowed to do  _ anything _ , for StarClan’s sake.

Cloudtail spins around as Dogscar dodges and kicks out with one hind leg. It connects at Dogscar’s shoulder and he stumbles back. Dogs howl in his ears for half a second and then he lunges, dragging his paws down Cloudtail’s flank. In the back of his mind white fur stains red, long bloody trails left behind his claws, and Dogscar shudders. 

Across from him, Cloudtail pauses, one paw raised. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Dogscar says through gritted teeth, and lunges, snapping his teeth closed just next to Cloudtail’s ear, to make a point.

Cloudtail snaps at him in return before he can move, but his teeth close on Dogscar’s whiskers, pulling at them. Dogscar rips away with a snarl, working the side of his face. He spends a second being grateful he’s not missing most of his whiskers there before Cloudtail’s shoulder slams into him, sending him stumbling sideways. And just like that he’s off-balance, his blood thrumming fearfully in his veins, and Cloudtail’s paws battering his shoulders are an enemy driving him back. 

He’s breathing hard, too hard for a practice fight, and teetering on the edge between memory and reality. A part of him hesitates, wants to insist that he can keep going, that he is fine. Another part of him wants it to stop, just for a moment, so he can  _ breathe _ . So he can think. 

He thinks that everyone would probably be pleased with him, if he took it easy for ten seconds of his life, and the idea of Longtail smiling approvingly or Cinderpelt telling him he did well or Cloudtail and Brightpaw bumping lightly up against him is what makes Dogscar back up, shaking his head. 

“Hold...hold on. Stop.”

Cloudtail does, instantly, his open, fanged grin disappearing as he backs up several paces. “Okay. You alright?”

There’s something distinctly careful about the way he says it, a voice saved for small kits scared after nightmares. Dogscar grits his teeth and closes his eyes and  _ thinks _ . He  _ is  _ scared, in a way, even if he hates to label it like that. And the part of his brain that runs on instinct and adrenaline and wants to flinch when Longtail takes a hesitant step forward actually likes Cloudtail’s careful, gentle tone. So he holds himself for a moment, teeth grinding together, and finally opens his eyes. 

They’re just trying to  _ help _ . Cloudtail just wants to help, and Dogscar is violent and cruel so, first, he’s trying to keep his distance while he does it, and second, Dogscar should be glad he’s even trying, after everything. 

He forces himself to relax, to turn toward the others. Cloudtail moves slightly so he’s standing in front of Brightpaw, and in the back of his mouth Dogscar’s teeth grind.

“I can take care of myself, Cloudtail,” Brightpaw tells him quietly, sidestepping him. Cloudtail opens his mouth like he might say something, closes it.

“Dogscar,” Longtail says, gently. “Are you okay?”

And that’s just the question, isn’t it? Dogscar has no idea. He wants to say that he’s  _ fine _ , but he’s not entirely sure it’s true, and anyway after he just stopped the fight, would any of them believe him? So he flexes his claws and stares at the ground to avoid their eyes before he speaks.

“I—I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” Brightpaw says, taking a few small steps forward, “if you don’t know. Or if you’re not okay. Whatever you want us to do, we’ll do it.”

Dogscar shakes his head. “I don’t...I don’t  _ know _ . What if, what happens, what happens if I can’t fight?” He looks up at her. “What do I do if I can’t fight?”

Brightpaw closes the distance between him so their noses nearly touch. “Stop. There’s more to life than  _ fighting,  _ Dogscar. There’s more to being a warrior than fighting. If you decided you just wanted to hunt and help out in the camp instead of going to battle? I’m sure you could do that. If you wanted to be a medicine cat, or just retire early, you can do that too. Or, if you want, we can help you, all of us, do whatever you need to work through this so you  _ can  _ fight. Look at me.”

Dogscar snaps his eyes back to her. Without thinking about it he’d let his gaze slide down and away from her, and now, staring at her huge, ugly scar and her bright blue eye he almost backs away. Brightpaw would let him, he thinks, and then he meets her gaze. Very rarely has he seen Brightpaw this intense—he owes her his attention, at the very least.

“Your life isn’t  _ over _ , Dogscar,” Brightpaw says, slow and clear. “You decide what you want, and—no guarantees, you know that, but—we will do everything we can to make sure you can have it.”

Inexplicably, Dogscar wants to press his muzzle into her fur, tuck himself up under her chin like he was a kit again, with Goldenflower. For half a heartbeat he considers saying it, or doing it, and finally he just ducks his head.

“I think…” he says slowly, “I want to go back to camp. And try again later, today or tomorrow or both. And I want to talk to Cinderpelt, when she comes back.”

“Okay,” Brightpaw says, and it’s that easy. 

She steps away from him, only to come around to his side, walking so close their fur brushes, and Cloudtail joins him on his other side. Longtail smiles softly at them and falls into step at the back.

“You know that was brave of you, right?” Cloudtail asks softly as they walk. 

“Cowardly of me, to tap out of a basic fight,” Dogscar mutters before he can think about it.

“Shut  _ up _ ,” Brightpaw says, and under the teasing note in her voice there’s a real seriousness there. “You are not the cat you used to be.”

“Yeah, I’m worse-“

“No you’re  _ not _ ,” Cloudtail spits, with so much venom Dogscar actually stops walking for a second.

Brightpaw nudges him in the shoulder. “You were...look, no offense to your past self, but you did everything so  _ fast _ , Dogscar, and so  _ much _ , the only thing you wanted in the world was to be the best warrior, and that’s not a bad thing, it’s just...it didn’t leave a whole lot of room for anything else, yknow?”

Dogscar thinks for a second and shakes his head. “No.”

Brightpaw huffs at him. “You...you're different now, is all I’m saying. You’re...slower. And, honestly? Nicer. Sometimes. And that’s  _ okay _ . What happened to you, to us? It was huge. Neither of us is the same cat anymore. No one could be the same after that. So if you don’t want to be the greatest warrior anymore, it’s okay.”

“And what if I do?” Dogscar asks.

“Then we’ll help you get there,” Brightpaw says firmly. 

“You kinda sound like Cinderpelt,” he tells her, and she smiles a bit.

“I talked to her sometimes, when you were asleep or out somewhere. She knows a lot, she helped me a lot.”

Dogscar nods at her, and then a scream—a sound no cat could ever make—splits the air around them. Four cats throw their heads back, scanning the sky through the leaves. Dogscar catches a glimpse of a brown wing as it darts over the sky. 

“It’s a hawk,” Longtail says. “We’re not far from camp.”

“The kits,” Dogscar breathes. A hawk could carry off any cat, but kits especially are easy prey. He imagines Sorrelkit being carried off in a huge bird’s talons, bleeding and crying out, and he breaks into a run.

The others are right behind him, but Dogscar is still as swift as ever, and he outpaces them easily, reaching the camp in a moment, crashing part of the way through the thorn barrier and taking in the scene at a glance.

Every cat in camp is in their dens, worried eyes fixed on the sky as the hawk circles. There’s only one living thing left in the open: Snowkit, playing with a ball of moss.

“Snowkit!” Brightpaw cries as she bounds up, skidding to a stop and glancing anxiously at the sky.

“Why isn’t he moving?” Dogscar hisses, shifting his weight. He has seconds to make a decision, to stay where he is in relative shelter or risk himself running for Snowkit.

“He’s  _ deaf _ ,” Brightpaw whispers, frantic. “Didn’t you know?”

The hawk screams again. A dozen voices rise up at once, calling Snowkit’s name. One of them is Dogscar’s.

Three bodies dive together for the kit. The hawk, it’s shadow growing bigger and bigger overtop of Snowkit as he turns, finally looking up for the source of the darkness; Dogscar, racing the length of the camp to get to him; and Brackenfur, a blur of brownish gold as he leaps for the kit he’s meant to mentor. 

Three bodies crash together in midair, and every living thing in ThunderClan camp begins to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun.....poor little Snowkit. 
> 
> Not much to say this week, but we're over halfway there now! See you Wednesday, for real this time. Comments and kudos are still very, very appreciated and the highlight of my day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the hawk, plus a renaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week on "time is a construct and also i forgot it was Wednesday": ahhhh I'm technically not late because Thursday is in three minutes. Sorry again! Bit of a longer chapter this time to make up for it (by like, 300 words, but still).

Later, Dogscar won’t remember anything but the need to get to Snowkit, and flashes of images.

_ Flash.  _ Snowkit’s eyes widening in terror as he looks up at the hawk.

_ Flash _ . Brackenfur, mouth open in a snarl or a scream, leaping through the air in his peripheral vision. 

_ Flash. _ Nothing but brown feathers and darkness as Dogscar sinks his claws and teeth into the hawk’s body.

_ Flash _ . Brightpaw and Cloudtail’s faces, looking up at him exactly the same way Snowkit had as the hawk struggles back into the sky. 

_ Flash.  _ Dogscar hits the ground—he isn’t sure if he let go, or the bird fell, or other warriors dragged it down, but somehow he’s in the dirt and the hawk is thrashing beside him. 

And now:  _ Flash.  _ Dogscar stands, chest heaving, over Snowkit. The small tom has three bloody lines on one side of him, a fourth on the other—the hawk had him, just for a second, but it was long enough.

Someone says Cinderpelt’s name. Someone says the word  _ Moonstone _ . Dogscar’s blood is thrumming in his ears, and distantly, he remembers. Cinderpelt isn’t here, but he is. He knows what to do. He can help Snowkit.

“Bring him to the medicine den. Quickly,” he says, in a voice that doesn’t sound like his own. 

He runs ahead to the den, scrapes through Cinderpelt’s stores to find the cobwebs and marigold. By the time Brackenfur lays Snowkit down in a nest, he’s already got a poultice in the making. Dogscar pushes moss toward Brackenfur before anything else.

“Slow the bleeding. I’m almost ready.”

Brackenfur nods with fear in his eyes and starts pressing the moss to Snowkit’s wounds. Dogscar spits out some of the chewed marigold leaves just as Speckletail shoves her way into the nursery.

“My son!” she wails. “Snowkit! Please, please, I can’t lose another kit!”

“I’m doing my best,” Dogscar tells her, as firmly as he can. Everything still sounds muted and distant, and he isn’t sure how he’s speaking so calmly when inside, all he can see is Snowkit’s blood, but it’s happening.

“Cloudtail, Brightpaw,” he says, when he notices their faces behind Speckletail. “Keep everyone out until we’re done. Please.”

Gently, the pair of them guide a hysterical Speckletail out, and Dogscar grabs for some thyme, tossing it carelessly after them. “Have her eat that!” he calls, already turning back to Snowkit and starting to apply some of the poultice.

“Chew up some more marigold for me, quickly,” he tells Brackenfur as he adds the cobwebs. 

For a heartbeat, Dogscar is afraid the bleeding won’t stop, that they’ll sit in this den frantically trying to save Snowkit until he dies because they  _ aren’t medicine cats _ . But then no more blood drips free and Dogscar breathes, takes more of the poultice, keeps going.

By the time it’s over, Dogscar’s paws are sticky with kit blood and chewed leaves, but Snowkit is breathing and alive, and that’s the most he could ask for.

“Speckletail,” he calls, softly, and the old queen barrels in in half a second. 

“Snowkit!” she wails, and he presses a paw to her chest to keep her from going to him.

“Gently,” he says, lowering his paw. “You don’t want to reopen his wounds.”

Speckletail slumps a bit and nods. When she moves forward, it’s much slower, and she gently touches her nose to her son’s before dragging most of another nest over to him. She lays down, curled around him but not quite touching. 

Brackenfur hovers beside her with a questioning look. At Speckletail’s nod, he sits by Snowkit’s head. Neither of them says anything; they just watch the rise and fall of the small kit’s flanks.

“Dogscar,” Cloudtail says quietly. He’s standing in the entrance to the den. “Is...Is Snowkit…”

“He’s alright. For now. I'm not a medicine cat, but I stopped the bleeding, so hopefully he’ll be okay until Cinderpelt comes back tomorrow.”

Cloudtail’s shoulders slump in relief and he beckons to Dogscar. With a last anxious glance over his shoulder at Snowkit, Dogscar follows him into the sun.

“Snowkit’s okay right now,” he tells the Clan, who are still gathered in loose, worried clumps outside the den. 

There’s an audible sigh of relief. Dogscar’s eyes catch on the hawk’s body, behind the crowd, and pushes through to it. There’s blood in the dirt, a small trail leading to the medicine den and spatters of it all around the hawk. Feathers and tufts of fur of all colors drift in a light breeze. 

Dogscar narrows his eyes. “Was anyone else hurt by the hawk?” he asks, without turning around.

“Brackenfur had blood on his back,” Goldenflower says. 

Dogscar blinks for just a few seconds too long. Of course. He turns around “Anyone else?”

Dustpelt shakes his head. “Sandstorm and I jumped on its back, and we all stayed clear of the talons.”

Dogscar nods and head back into the den.

“Brackenfur,” he says, the second he ducks inside. 

At the tone of his voice, the other warrior hunches slightly. From this angle, without all the panic and rush of saving Snowkit, Dogscar can see the dark wet patch in a line down Brackenfur’s back. It’s not as long or deep—the hawk must’ve just clipped him as he was saving Snowkit.

“You should’ve told me,” he hisses, fetching yet more marigold and starting to chew it into a poultice. “What if I hadn’t thought to ask if anyone else was hurt?”

“It’s not that bad,” Brackenfur says, and then hisses a little at the sting as Dogscar applies the marigold. “I would’ve been okay.”

Dogscar just hums judgmentally and Brackenfur hangs his head. 

The cobwebs go on, binding the poultice in place and sealing the wound closed, and Dogscar steps back outside again. 

“Brackenfur’s okay, too,” he announces. “Mouse-brain thought it was a good idea to try and hide that he got hurt.”

There’s a low chuckle that’s mostly made of relief that ripples through the Clan. Cloudtail taps Dogscar on the shoulder with his tail, leading him to the side, with Brightpaw and Longtail.

“You did really good, with Snowkit,” Longtail says quietly. “Better than any of us could have. If you weren’t here…”

“We would’ve lost him,” Brightpaw finishes.

Cloudtail tips his head. “You sure you’re not a medicine cat? You’re really good at it.”

For the first time, Dogscar falters. He  _ was  _ good. He  _ did  _ save Snowkit—though that thought is huge, and the edges slip away from him. There’s no way  _ he _ can be responsible for saving cats’ lives. But it wasn’t...it wasn’t awful. And it does, sort of, underneath the residual panic that’s slowly rising now that the immediate threat of death is gone, feel good. To have done that.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says at last. “I’m a warrior. I trained to be a warrior. Maybe if I was like Cinderpelt, and I was still an apprentice, I could do it, but not  _ now _ .”

“And why not? Littlecloud, of ShadowClan, he was a warrior up until a few moons ago. Nothing wrong with switching duties if you want to,” Longtail tells him.

Dogscar looks away. “I don’t...I don’t want to be a medicine cat.”

“Are you sure?” Brightpaw presses, gently. “You never considered it before, I know, and now that the option is there, and you’re  _ good _ at it...why not think about it?”

Dogscar just shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t...there’s too much going on right now. I can’t make that decision.”

“You don’t have to. Just think about it, though, at least a little?” Brightpaw asks.

“Yeah,” Dogscar tells her. “Sure.”

“Dogscar!” a smaller voice cries, and he spins to see Sorrelkit racing up to him. 

“Hey, Sorrelkit!” he says, with about half as much enthusiasm, but she doesn’t seem to notice. It’s still more excited than he’s been to see her since, well, ever. 

“Mama told me you saved Snowkit! From the hawk!” she says, bouncing on her paws. Then she ducks her head. “I didn’t see anything, because I got scared and hid. Rainkit and Sootkit are teasing me, even though they were scared too.”

“What because you were afraid of the hawk?” Dogscar asks. Sorrelkit nods. “Well, here’s a little secret, Sorrelkit. I was scared, too.”

She looks up with gleaming eyes. “ _ Really _ ?”

“Absolutely terrified.”

“But...but you’re so brave! You’re only scared of dogs. Really really brave cats aren’t scared of hardly anything!” she says, and Dogscar frowns.

“Who told you that?”

“My brothers. They said that if you’re a warrior, you can’t be afraid of anything, ‘cause you have to protect your Clan.”

Dogscar glances over his shoulder at the others and crouches down to be eye level with Sorrelkit. “Let me tell you something, Sorrelkit. Every cat is scared of something. I bet you that every single cat in ThunderClan was really, really scared of that hawk. Do you think when we face another Clan and get ready to go into battle, that we’re scared?”

“‘Course not. You’re  _ warriors, _ fighting is what you do.”

“We’re  _ terrified _ when we go to battle, Sorrelkit. We...I’m scared, a lot, of fighting. I was before, but especially now. But here’s the thing: bravery is about doing things even if you’re afraid of them. Only really stupid cats aren’t afraid of anything at all.”

Sorrelkit looks a bit doubtful. 

“Fear is what keeps us  _ alive _ , Sorrelkit. If you get scared alone in the forest, there might be something nearby that’s going to hurt you. It’s your instincts telling you to get ready, if there’s a fight. So if any cat ever tells you that you’re weak for being afraid, you can tell them exactly what I just told you.”

“Okay,” Sorrelkit whispers. 

“You’ll make the best warrior someday, Sorrelkit,” Dogscar tells her. “If that’s what you want to do, I mean.”

She nods furiously. “I do! I wanna be the best warrior!”

“Okay. Then you go on back to your mama and your brothers and you tell them what it means to  _ really  _ be a warrior, since they’ve got it so wrong.”

“Okay!” Sorrelkit turns and happily skips her way back to Willowpelt. 

Cloudtail, Brightpaw, and Longtail are all staring at Dogscar when he straightens up and turns around. 

“What?” he asks.

“That was...that was really sweet of you, to tell Sorrelkit that,” Brightpaw says. “She looks up to you a lot.”

“Really?” Dogscar glances over his shoulder. Sorrelkit is saying something he can’t hear, and bouncing around a lot. Rainkit and Sootkit both try to butt in, and Willowpelt gently shushes them. Dogscar lets himself smile.

“Really. You think she comes up to everyone like that?” Longtail asks. 

Dogscar licks at his chest fur a little, suddenly embarrassed. “She’s such a sweet kit, I just kind of assumed…”

Cloudtail snorts. “Nah. She pretty much thinks you’re the greatest cat ever.”

“Oh.” Dogscar doesn’t exactly know what to say to that, just stares at the ground. “She’s a good kit. She’ll make a really good warrior.”

“Yeah,” Cloudtail agrees. “They all will.”

“Even Snowkit?” Dogscar asks.

“Yes,” Brightpaw says, just a little too loudly. “He’s  _ deaf _ , not, not stupid or anything. Brackenfur works with him a lot, and I can’t hear as well out of this ear anymore-“ she inclines her head towards her injured side- “so I wanted to know what he was coming up with. He’s worked out some simple signals for Snowkit to communicate, basic things, but it’s a start. He can do it if he has the right teacher.”

Dogscar has the vague sense that he was just scolded. “I didn’t...sorry, I didn’t know Brackenfur had figured anything like that out.”

Brightpaw waves her tail dismissively. “It’s fine, I’m just...no cat thought I could still be a warrior you know? Blind in one eye. So I want Snowkit to have that chance, too, to prove everyone wrong.”

There’s a short moment where no one seems to know what to say, until Longtail says, “Just wait until Cinderpelt comes back and sees what you did, Dogscar.”

He licks at his chest fur again. “It was-“

“If you say ‘nothing,’ I will sit on you.” Cloudtail warns.

“Nothing?” Dogscar says with a little grin, just because he can.

Cloudtail shoves him onto his side and sits on him, and only then seems to realize what he did. 

“Wait, wait, I didn’t...I’m sorry,” he starts, moving to stand.

“Wait, hold on,” Dogscar tells him, frowning at nothing while he takes careful stock of himself. It’s just Cloudtail. There’s no danger, and for once it seems like his brain has actually gotten that message. He’s okay.

“I’m okay,” Dogscar says. “I mean, you’re sitting on me, and you’re  _ fat _ , but it’s fine.”

“I am not fat! It’s the fur, I’m fluffy!” Cloudtail protests, but there’s genuine relief there, as well. 

Dogscar swats at him lightly with a paw and flops on the ground. Yeah. They’re okay. And just wait till Cinderpelt gets back to see it.

-0-0-0-

Most cats, when their new leader and medicine cat return the next day at sunhigh, make for Firestar, to congratulate him. Dogscar goes to catch Cinderpelt as she veers sideways to the medicine den.

“Hi, Dogscar. Anything happen while I was gone?” she asks, and he steps in front of her to stop her from walking.

“Actually, yeah. There was, um, a hawk-“

Cinderpelt’s eyes widen. “A  _ hawk _ ?”

Before Dogscar can respond or even move, she darts around him and into her den. He chases after her, nearly slamming into her back when she skids to a halt in the entrance.

“Snowkit?”

Dogscar’s heart drops out of his chest. “Is he-“

Snowkit is fine. Or, well, as fine as a kit can be with those wounds. Dogscar breathes a little sigh of relief. 

“A hawk tried to pick him up, I jumped on it and Brackenfur got him free—Brackenfur got nicked as well, by the way, but I thought he was okay to go back to the warriors den—and some other cats helped kill it,” he explains.

Cinderpelt nods briskly and immediately starts to check the kit over. “No infection—you did really well, Dogscar. His apprentice ceremony was meant to be any day now, but it’ll have to be delayed until he heals.”

“Right,” Dogscar says. “Do you thi-“

From outside the den, the boom of Firestar’s voice cuts him off. “All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!”

“He’s going to assign a deputy,” Cinderpelt says. “Speckletail, are you coming?”

The spotted queen freezes, looking down at her kit and back out at camp.

“You don’t have to. No cat would blame you for staying here. It was just a question,” Cinderpelt says gently.

Speckletail curls her tail around Snowkit protectively. “I...I’ll stay here with him.”

Cinderpelt nods and goes to join the Clan. Dogscar follows her and makes a beeline for Brightpaw and Cloudtail, sitting down just as the last cats settle in. 

“The time has come to appoint a new deputy,” Firestar says. He lifts his chin towards the sky, towards StarClan. “I say these words before StarClan, that our warrior ancestors may hear and approve my choice. Whitestorm will be the new deputy of ThunderClan.”

A pleased murmur ripples through ThunderClan, and the cats closest to Whitestorm nudge him cheerfully in congratulations. The white warrior stands and pads forward to the Highrock.

“Firestar, cats of ThunderClan,” he says, dipping his head to each in turn, “I never expected to be given this honor. I swear I will do all I can to serve you.”

Dogscar breaks into a smile. Beside him, Brightpaw is practically vibrating as she watches her former mentor. As one, ThunderClan lifts their heads in a wild cheer for their new deputy.

“Whitestorm! Whitestorm! Whitestorm!”

When their voices subside, Whitestorm gracefully accepts congratulations from many of the warriors. Brightpaw darts up to talk to him, and Cloudtail and Dogscar hang back. Dogscar likes Whitestorm well enough, but they were definitely never as close as him and Brightpaw. 

“Do you think it’s a good idea to pick a deputy who’s way older than you? Whitestorm is a senior warrior,” Dogscar whispers.

Cloudtail shrugs. “Maybe Firestar expects to run through all of his lives  _ really  _ fast.”

Dogscar shoves at him playfully. “Don’t say that!”

In front of them, Firestar jumps down from the Highrock. Dogscar watches his eyes slide to Brightpaw, and then to him. He tries his best not to frown at his leader, but Firestar looks away before he can really think about it, padding over to the elder’s den.

Dogscar nods after him, looking at Cloudtail. “What’s he doing?”

“Talking to the elders?” Cloudtail asks. “Checking in on all his Clanmates now that he’s leader? I dunno.”

But something about the way Firestar had  _ looked  _ at him and Brightpaw made Dogscar think it had something to do with them. Which was probably stupid. Still, it wasn’t like there was any harm in going over and  _ asking _ , right? Firestar wasn’t Bluestar. He might not  _ like  _ Dogscar, but he wasn’t going to be cruel.

“Hey,” Dogscar says as he pokes his head into the elder’s den. 

As every cat’s head swings to look at him, any reassurance he’d managed to give himself on the way over. He is about to just bow out of the conversation immediately when Firestar brightens somewhat.

“Dogscar! Actually, we were just talking about you. And, er, Lostface,” Firestar’s face twists at the name.

It’s been so long since Dogscar’s been around anyone who used Brightpaw’s awful warrior name—most of the Clan seems to be under the unspoken agreement not to—and he corrects his leader automatically.

“She prefers Brightpaw, actually.”

Firestar nodded. “Exactly. No cat should be forced to choose between a cruel warrior name or none at all. Being made to have an apprentice name long after you’ve grown up is...it’s not right.”

Dogscar tilts his head. Firestar’s eyes have gone slightly far away, like he’s thinking of something or someone else, not Brightpaw. “Well,” he says at last, “It’s not like you can change it. Bluestar named her already.”

“But that’s just it!” Firestar says, gesturing towards One-eye. “There’s a ceremony to change a cat’s warrior name, if it no longer fits them. I was asking One-eye about it, actually, so I could change your names back. If you wanted, that is. I know you...embraced yours, more than Lostface. Brightpaw.”

A new name? Dogscar thinks about it. Being Swift again. It would be nice, maybe. But Dogscar isn’t sure he’s ready to lose the reminder of his name—even if Bluestar’s decision was cruel, he can’t argue with all of it. He deserves, at least a bit, to have the reminder of his mistakes.

“What...did you have in mind? If I can ask,” he asks, after a long moment of quiet.

“I was thinking Brightheart, for her bravery, her spirit. And for you, something like Swiftclaw, maybe? But it’s up to you, it’s your name.”

Dogscar gives him a wry smile. “Isn’t it the leaders job to pick the name?”

“Exceptions have been made before. I would gladly let you pick your name, after everything you’ve had to go through to get it.”

He sits for a moment, mulling over the idea.  _ Swiftclaw.  _ It’s a good name. As an apprentice he might have hoped for something like it. But it removes everything about the dog attack, and even if Dogscar thinks the others would probably approve of that, he just...he  _ can’t. _ He made a  _ mistake  _ and he changed his and Brightpaw’s lives forever, it doesn’t feel right that it should just go  _ away _ . 

“I...I’d like to keep the -scar suffix, actually, if you don’t mind,” he says quietly. “Bluestar was wrong about a lot of things, but I still want that reminder. The dog attack changed  _ everything _ . I can’t just erase that.”

Firestar dipped his head. “Of course, I understand. I’ll talk to Brightpaw now and you two can get your proper ceremony in a little while. Hold your vigil, the way you were supposed to.”

Dogscar nods gratefully and exits the elder’s den before he can get roped into searching for ticks or something. 

Him and Brightpaw. With proper warrior names. He sits at the edge of camp for a moment, just thinking about it.

Brightheart and Swiftscar. 

_ Swiftscar _ .

He likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Snowkit lives! Everyone saw that coming. Thoughts on our boy's new name? 
> 
> Comments and kudos are, as always, very appreciated!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A proper ceremony, a vigil, and a Gathering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really.....really missed three Wednesdays there, huh? Real life got rough for a hot minute, my mental health took A Turn, and for about two weeks it was all I could do to keep up with the bare minimum of Life Responsibilities, and then school started, and...well, we're here. But everything should be, for the most part, back to normal here now, so I'm back! And y'all get three chapters today as an apology. I really am sorry for abandoning this thing. It's almost done! Still chugging through the last chapter a few sentences at a time (and fun fact, I have no clue how many chapters there are because, like an idiot, I didn't number them, so we'll see what happens). 
> 
> Thank you all for bearing with me! Hopefully this doesn't happen again.

“All cats old enough to catch their own prey, gather here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!” Firestar’s yowl rings across the camp for the second time in a day. 

Dogscar lifts his head, fighting to keep the grin from his face as Cloudtail glances curiously over at him. He and Brightpaw had decided to keep their renaming a little surprise, even from him.

The sun is setting, painting the sky a fiery red. Dogscar smiles up at it. Red skies at night...that’s a good omen. Maybe a sign he can be a proper warrior, after all.

To Dogscar’s surprise, the thought doesn’t fill him with the same hope and excitement that it used to. 

He shakes it away as he, Cloudtail, and Brightpaw move to sit amongst the crowd. Brightpaw catches his eye and grins as big as he’s ever seen her. She looks so happy. She’s the most beautiful thing, beaming like this.

“What are you so happy about? Do you know something I don’t?” Cloudtail asks, but when Dogscar looks at him his eyes are soft, and he’s looking at Brightpaw exactly the same way. 

“Just wait,” Dogscar tells him, and Firestar begins to speak.

“There is one more ceremony to perform today,” he says, looking directly at Dogscar and Brightpaw. “Spirits of StarClan, you know every cat by name. I ask you now to take away the name of the cats you see before you, for it no longer stands for what they are.”

Cloudtail turns to look at them both. “A renaming?” he asks, half breathless. His eyes are shining. 

Dogscar’s jaw aches with the force of smiling. He’s been waiting so long for this day. 

“By my authority as Clan leader, and with the approval of our warrior ancestors, I give these cats their new names. Dogscar, Lostface, come forward.”

Dogscar’s smile dims slightly at Brightpaw’s warrior name, but she’s already bounding ahead of him to sit in the open circle at the front of the Clan. He follows a step behind and joins her in staring up at Firestar.

“Lostface. From this moment on you will be know as Brightheart, for though your body has been gravely injured, we honor your brave spirit and the light that shines on within you.”

Brightpaw—Bright _ heart _ —makes a choked sound, and Dogscar looks over to see her eyes brimming with tears. For half a moment he thinks she’s somehow upset, before she whispers an almost inaudible, “ _ Thank you _ .” 

There’s a brief moment of silence where Brightheart composes herself, and Firestar dips his head to her. Then he turns to Dogscar.

“Dogscar. From this moment on you shall be known as Swiftscar, for though you bear the marks of your mistakes, they will never define you. We honor your bravery and inner strength.”

Dogscar— _ Swiftscar, Swiftscar, Swiftscar _ —finds himself, very suddenly, on the verge of tears like Brightheart. He ducks his head to avoid the eyes of his Clanmates, and tries to whisper his thanks as well, but nothing comes out of his mouth around the lump in his throat. He looks up again just as Firestar dios his head again, and raises his tail to lead the Clan in cheering their new names.

“Brightheart! Swiftscar! Brightheart! Swiftscar!  _ Brightheart! Swiftscar! _ ”

Cloudtail is cheering loudest of all. 

Dogscar almost has to close his eyes, but instead he looks at the sky as his Clanmates’ voices hurl themselves against the stars blinking into existence. StarClan, come to see their ceremony. 

It’s everything Swiftscar ever wanted. His Clan cheering for him, knowing he succeeded, he made it, he is one of them. 

Brightheart presses against his side and whispers, “We did it, Swiftscar. We made it.”

Under the stars, Swiftscar finally cries, because yes. Yes they did. 

-0-0-0-

The warriors vigil is one of the best and worst things Swiftscar has ever had to do. The best, because it’s a clear, cool night and Brightheart is pressed lightly against him and they’re both still riding the high of finally,  _ finally  _ getting what they wanted after so long. The worst, because really, staying up all night and trying to guard the camp and not even being able to talk about how amazing it is? It’s not exactly fun.

A bit after moonhigh they both start to slump, and while they won’t break their vows of silence they do play, a little bit. Brightheart nudges him and he pushes at her shoulder with one paw. She grins and shoves both her forepaws against his side, nearly unbalancing him, and he bites playfully at her ear—the night they become warriors, and they’re kits again.

The sound of their stifled laughter is loud in the near-silent forest, and when Brightheart lands on the ground after a particularly hard shove, her eyes widen at something behind Swiftscar.

He whirls, instantly thinking  _ threat _ , but it’s just Whitestorm. 

“I’m trying to decide if I should scold you two for this or just be glad you’re having fun,” he tells them, one thick eyebrow raised.

Swiftscar opens his mouth to respond and quickly snaps it shut, opting to shake his head instead. Brightheart hops back to her feet and gives Whitestorm her best pleading look. The deputy smiles at them.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Better than finding the two of you asleep, at any rate. Just keep an eye out, yeah?”

They both nod furiously as Whitestorm ducks his head in a goodnight. The pair of them stand there like that for a moment until the sound of his pawsteps fades, then Brightheart tackles Swiftscar from behind. He growls playfully at her, spinning and knocking into her with his shoulder, which turns into a shoving match to see who falls over first.

(It’s Swiftscar, that time, though he doesn’t stay down long.)

At some point when they both take a break to look at the sky, Swiftscar nods toward the moon—nearly full. There’ll be a Gathering soon.

When the sky starts to lighten it finally seems to hit them that they’ve been awake an entire day, and their shoves turn into leaning on one another, coupled with gentle pokes to keep them awake. Swiftscar watches the stars slowly wink away until someone touches his shoulder gently with their nose.

He flinches a bit, and tells himself it’s because he’s tired. Brightheart curls her tail around him briefly, soothing, and Swiftscar stands up.

“Sorry,” Cloudtail whispers, “Just trying to get your attention. Your vigil’s over, officially, so welcome back to talking.”

Swiftscar smiles. “Hey.” His voice is throaty and rough from not being used for a while.

“I am ready for a  _ very  _ long nap,” Brightheart says, stretching. 

“Go on, then. I volunteered for dawn patrol so I could be the one to get you two,” Cloudtail makes a face. “Appreciate my noble sacrifice.”

Swiftscar scoffs. “Okay, sure, your  _ noble  _ sacrifice.”

Cloudtail swats him with his tail as he trots off, and he and Brightheart trudge into the warriors den. Half of its inhabitants are still sleeping, and the rest are in camp, so there’s no one to see Swiftscar and Brightheart flop down together in a nest and curl up to sleep.

“Hey, Swiftscar,” Brightheart whispers.

He’s already closed his eyes, and frowns without opening them. “What.”

“Do you think we’ll get to go to this moon’s Gathering?”

“Probably.”

“Are you scared?”

He opens one eye to look at her. “Why?”

“It’s just…” Brightheart turns her face away. “This is our first one since the attack.”

Oh. “You’re worried of what they’ll think of you?”

Brightheart makes a tiny sound into his fur that he supposes is a yes. “Well, Cloudtail and I’ll be right there with you the whole time, and we’ll claw anyone who even  _ looks  _ at you funny.”

“Swiftscar, you can’t start a fight at a Gathering just because someone’s not nice to me!” Brightheart says, pulling back to stare at him.

“I can, and I will. Now shh, go to sleep.”

Brightheart pokes him. “Swiftscar, do  _ not _ start a fight over me! Promise me you won’t.”

He shifts away from her and closes his eyes. “I can’t hear you, I’m sleeping.”

“Shut up,” Brightheart says, but she’s laughing.

“I thought you wanted me to say something?”

She flops down on top of him. “You’re impossible. I’m going to sleep.”

Swiftscar smiles as he drifts off. 

-0-0-0-

As Brightheart predicted, they both get to go to the Gathering. Cloudtail goes as well, along with Thornclaw, Mousefur, and Longtail. 

They leave camp at sunset, and Swiftscar bounds ahead to walk next to Longtail. He’s more excited than he’s been in a long while to get to the Gathering—he hasn’t been in  _ moons _ , long before the dog attack. 

“Hey, Swiftscar,” Longtail says, and Swiftscar can’t help but beam a little. Every cat says his name differently now, happier, maybe. He likes it. “Ready for the Gathering?”

“Yeah!” Swiftscar says, and then ducks his head to curb his own enthusiasm. “It’s been a while, I mean.”

“Yes, it has.” Longtail glances over his shoulder. “What are you doing up here with me, anyway? I thought you’d be back with Cloudtail and Brightheart.”

Swiftscar looks back at them. “I’m not with them  _ that  _ much.”

Longtail purrs a laugh. “You three all but share a nest in the warriors den. I’m not blind, Swiftscar.”

He can’t say anything to that, so when Longtail nudges him gently Swiftscar turns around to trot next to them again. Cloudtail bumps against him and, just for a moment, their tails brush and curl together. Swiftscar whips his away quickly and ducks his head, his pelt burning. 

Brightpaw, on Cloudtail’s other side, says, “Hey, Swiftscar, you remember what I said about  _ not  _ starting a Clan war in my honor tonight?” 

“We’re starting a Clan war in Brightheart’s honor?” Cloudtail asks Swiftscar, his eyes bright. 

Swiftscar grins. “Definitely. Brightheart, I don’t remember that conversation, I think I was asleep.”

She shoves into Cloudtail so hard he knocks against Swiftscar. “Quit it. I’m serious, okay? I...yeah, it’ll suck if other cats stare, or whatever, but I’ll live, alright? It doesn’t matter what they think about me. I know you two still...well. You know.”

Swiftscar dropped back behind Cloudtail and came up on Brightheart’s other side. 

“We think you’re  _ beautiful _ , Brightheart,” he says. “Your scars just show how strong you are, what you’ve fought against.”

“We want everyone else to see that, too. So if it takes some claws to make them? We’re happy to provide,” Cloudtail adds.

Brightheart shakes her head. “Thank you. But you can’t. We just got over the fight with the dogs, and you  _ know  _ Tigerstar would take any opportunity to fight with us again, so you can’t. Gatherings are supposed to be peaceful.”

Cloudtail tips his head. “Can we fight cats from the  _ other  _ Clans, then?”

“ _ No _ ,” Brightheart says, half a laugh and half a snap.

“What about patrols?” Swiftscar asks. 

Brightheart considers this. “Fine, only if they attack first. But be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Swiftscar bumps her shoulder gently. “Don’t worry. We can take care of ourselves.”

She turns a worried eye on him. “Can you?”

Swiftscar falters and Cloudtail pipes up. “I’ll watch his back, Bright.”

“And I’ll watch yours!” Swiftscar tells him, and Brightheart shoves against both of them.

“ _ Really _ , though. Promise me?” she asks, abruptly serious.

Swiftscar licks her cheek, watches Cloudtail lightly butt his head into hers. “Of course.”

“Promise,” Cloudtail adds.

Brightheart seems satisfied with that, and while Swiftscar is still looking at her, her eye widens and she gasps. His head snaps ahead and he stops for a second, stumbling over his paws. 

Fourtrees. 

Other cats are there already, WindClan, judging by the tall, black and white figure sitting at the base of the Great Rock. Swiftscar hesitates for a moment at the top of the hill before he joins the rest of his Clan in streaming down to the clearing. Firestar trots up to Tallstar and the WindClan deputy—Swiftscar squints, trying to remember his name. Something-foot, for that twisted paw. Hopfoot maybe? He shakes his head and follows Cloudtail over to some of the WindClan warriors. 

“Hello Mudclaw, Webfoot, Onewhisker,” he says, dipping his head to the cats. “These are my friends, Brightheart and Swiftscar.”

Swiftscar narrows his eyes as the cats all look at him and Brightheart. Onewhisker fixes awkwardly on Brightheart’s scar before he dips his head in greeting. “Hello. I remember the two of you, from many moons ago when you were first apprentices.”

Brightheart smiles. “It was a long apprenticeship.”

“No doubt from whatever happened to give you that scar,” Webfoot says. “And you, Swiftscar. Must’ve been a big fight.”

“Pity,” Mudclaw grunts. “Don’t remember her, but she must’ve been pretty, before.”

Brightheart stiffens. Swiftscar bares his teeth, but Cloudtail steps forward first.

“What did you say?”

Mudclaw shrugs, rolling back to scratch at his ear. “Nothing, I’m just saying. Going to be awfully hard getting a mate when you look like  _ that _ . No offense, but that  _ eye _ , I can’t even look at it.”

Brightheart breathes in, shaky and wet, and Swiftscar sees red. He forgets everything they just discussed, any promise he made, every rational thought vanishing into pure rage. How  _ dare  _ this WindClan cat, talking to Brightheart like she isn’t  _ right there _ ? Like she doesn’t know, doesn’t have feelings, couldn’t possibly be hurt by him blatantly saying he can’t stand to look at her. 

He lunges forward, watching Mudclaw’s eyes widen in surprise before he crashes into his chest, landing him on his back. Mudclaw’s hind legs brace against his belly, claws unsheathed, a warning. Neither of them moves, Swiftscar snarling in the WindClan warrior’s face. 

Cloudtail’s body presses against Swiftscar’s. “Don’t even  _ think  _ about moving, snake, or your kits’ kits will be able to feel what happens.”

Mudclaw growls, wordlessly, but doesn’t argue. 

“What’s going on here?” Tallstar asks. 

Swiftscar looks up at him, but doesn’t get off of Mudclaw, not yet. “Your warrior needs to learn some manners, that's what's going on.”

“Swiftscar, that’s enough. Stand down,” Firestar orders. 

He hesitates another second, eyes sliding back to Mudclaw. They didn’t even have a proper  _ fight _ , what sort of punishment is that?

“Swiftscar,” Brightpaw says, voice thin, “please?”

With a final growl, he stands down. Mudclaw scrambles back to his paws with a snarl, backing a few paces away. 

“He just attacked me!” he spits, looking to his leader. “For no reason! At a Gathering!”

“I’d say he deserved it, Tallstar. If he wasn’t WindClan I’d have given him a bit of a clawing myself. Nearly did, as it was,” Onewhisker puts in. Webfoot nods his agreement.

Tallstar frowns. “And why is that?”

“He was...a bit rude to me,” Brightheart says softly. Tallstar looks to her, and to his credit, his face flickers once with surprise before it clears.

Cloudtail makes a sound like a half growl, half snort. “That’s an understatement. He said...what was it? That it was a pity, because she could have been  _ pretty _ , before. If she didn't have the scars. He said no cat would want to be her mate, that he couldn’t stand to look at her.”

“Like it  _ matters,  _ if she’s pretty—she’s beautiful, by the way, the most beautiful thing in the forest—instead of, of her skills, or her heart, or the fact that she’s a survivor,” Swiftscar spits. 

Tallstar nods. “I see. While I don’t condone violence at a Gathering-“

“Neither do I,” Firestar puts in.

“-I can understand defending a Clanmate, and Mudclaw’s behavior will  _ not  _ go unpunished.” Tallstar finishes. “For the time being, I suggest you three sit away from Mudclaw, to prevent any other...incidents.”

Reluctantly, Swiftscar nods, and he and Cloudtail begin to pad away, Brightheart firmly between them.

“Wait a minute,” Onewhisker says, and then he trots around in front of them.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew, I don’t agree with Mudclaw. At all. And I wanted to express my condolences, about Bluestar. Tornear said he met Firestar and Cinderpelt on their way to the Moonstone.”

“Thank you,” Swiftscar says, and it almost isn’t awkward. 

Brightheart makes a small sound, and they all follow her gaze to the top of the clearing. Two cats stand at the head of what looks like an entire Clan, not just a few selected warriors. In the dim light, Swiftscar sees one of the cats is golden-spotted—Leopardstar. That would make the cat next to her her deputy, Mistyfoot. Bluestar’s daughter. 

Then the figure steps into a patch of moonlight, and it’s Tigerstar. The two leaders race into Fourtrees together, RiverClan and ShadowClan cats in one mingled mass behind them. Two Clans have  _ never  _ arrived together before. Not mixed together like that, like-

“It’s like they’re one Clan,” Cloudtail whispers. “What does that mean?”

As Swiftscar turns to watch Tigerstar leap onto the Great Rock, eyeing the way the dark warrior smirks down at them all, his eyes glinting, and he thinks it can mean nothing good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, I know next to nothing about the Mudclaw v Onewhisker drama, I just picked Vaguely Evil Man and Guy We Sorta Liked because WindClan's allegiances are very small in this book so there weren't many options. Sorry Mudclaw fans. Also, I'm super happy with the BrightSwiftCloud (do they have a shorter ship name? they should they deserve it) interactions this chapter, so let me know what you think of that!
> 
> And, as always, comments and kudos are very, very much appreciated!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second half of the Gathering, and a storm. Also, an old friend comes to visit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two today! Disclaimer: I lifted all the leaders' dialogue from the detailed chapter summary on the wiki because I'm lazy, and a good bit of their movements as well, so that more or less belongs to the Erins.

“Cats of the Clans!” Tigerstar yowls the second RiverClan and ThunderClan fan out in the Gathering hollow, not even giving them a chance to greet the other Clans. “Listen well, for great change is coming to the forest.”

“What is he going on about?” Cloudtail mutters. 

Swiftscar glances at the ShadowClan and RiverClan cats. Some of them are looking up at Tigerstar, their chests swelling with pride, while others look anxious. Something isn’t right.

“Great change,” Tigerstar says again. “And it’s ShadowClan’s duty to prepare every cat in the forest to meet it.”

Swiftscar, Cloudtail, and Brightheart exchange dubious glances. Tallstar frowns, his mouth moving inaudibly, and he steps forward to say something, but Tigerstar lashes his tail and keeps talking. 

“ShadowClan is blessed with the favor of StarClan, because we survived the sickness. I have received the blessing of StarClan most of all, because it was my task to restore ShadowClan, to make us great again.” Tigerstar’s eyes gleam as he speaks.

Swiftscar looks over at the base of the Great Rock, where the deputies and medicine cats sit. Blackfoot is there, looking as proud as any cat of what Tigerstar is saying. There’s no medicine cat there—Runningnose, Swiftscar remembers him at least. The one who can’t cure his own cold.He wonders if he was left behind so he couldn’t object to anything Tigerstar says, being the cat with the real connection to StarClan.

“We all know the changes that have already come to us,” Tigerstar goes on. “Changes far beyond our control. Last leaf-bare floods covered the forest, and a fire swept through ThunderClan forest.” Here, Tigerstar pauses, casting a sideways glance to Firestar, who narrows his eyes. Tigerstar doesn’t seem to notice. “The Twolegs are moving into our territory in greater numbers than ever, and life is growing harder with each passing day.”

Yowls of support rise from the clearing, but when Swiftscar glances around, he sees they only come from RiverClan and ShadowClan. The rest of the gathered cats look just as stunned and confused as he is.

Brightheart leans against Swiftscar. “I don’t like this. What is he leading up to?”

Swiftscar can only shake his head. “I don’t know.”

Tigerstar looks up at the sky, where clouds are gathering thickly across the stars. The moon isn’t covered, not yet, but it will be soon. It seems StarClan isn’t quite pleased with Tigerstar’s words, after all.

“StarClan has shown me the way. To survive the hardship ahead of us, we must join together as one Clan.” Tigerstar says. “As four Clans, we waste our energy striving  _ against  _ one another, and as one, we could be strong. We  _ must  _ unite.”

The clearing is completely, utterly silent. Tallstar and Firestar stare at Tigerstar with a mix of shock and anger. Some ShadowClan and RiverClan cats have their heads down, avoiding the eyes of the others, but more of them have their heads high, eagerly awaiting the other leaders’ answers. Thunder rumbling in the distance is the only reply Tigerstar receives. For a moment, Swiftscar sees the ShadowClan leader’s eyes go hard and cruel, his face twisting in anger, before he goes on.

“Leopardstar has already agreed to join RiverClan and ShadowClan. We shall be joint leaders together of a greater Clan known as TigerClan.” Now Tigerstar turns to Firestar and Tallstar. “We have come tonight to invite you to do the same with your own Clans, so that we may rule the forest together in friendship and peace.”

“He  _ killed  _ my mother,” Cloudtail snarls. “What does he know about friendship and peace?”

Tallstar seems to have similar thoughts, as he steps forward, bristling. He doesn’t talk to Tigerstar, though—instead he addresses the cats below. 

“TigerClan was the name of one of the great cats of the great Clans of the ancient times,” he declares. “Tigerstar has no right to use it now, nor does he have the right to change the number of Clans in the forest. We have lived as four Clans for innumerable seasons, following the warrior code laid down for us by StarClan. We have always survived, always  _ thrived _ , before now. To throw aside our ancient ways would bring disaster.”

A low ripple of murmurs crosses the clearing at his words. Tallstar straightens, nodding once. 

Then he rounds on Tigerstar. “I will  _ die  _ before I join my Clan with yours,” he hisses.

Tigerstar’s eyes glint, but his voice is steady when he replies. “Of course, I understand. These are important matters, and an older cat such as yourself will need time to see that what I’m suggesting is for the good of the Clans.”

Several cats gasp. Even Swiftscar breathes in sharply without really thinking. Someone snarls wordlessly from WindClan, and when Swiftscar looks over Mudclaw is straining against his Clanmates, glaring at the Great Rock. But Tallstar doesn’t seem to need his Clanmates’ help.

“I am not so old that I have lost my wits, you sorry piece of fox-dung,” he growls at Tigerstar. 

Tigerstar bristles, his ears going flat against his head, and he sneers at Firestar. “So what does the leader of ThunderClan think, then?”

“ _ Never _ !” Mousefur yowls from the crowd. “We will never bow to you!”

A few other cats raise their voices with her, but Swiftscar does see a few WindClan warriors with their heads bent together. They glance up at Tigerstar and he realizes that the tabby warrior  _ is  _ right. Life in the forest is getting harder, and that alone may sway some cats to his promise of peace. 

“Well, Firestar?” Tigerstar spits. “What do you have to say?”

The moon is covered by clouds, but the leaders on the Great Rock are far from finished. “I will never let you take over ThunderClan!” Firestar yowls, stalking away from Tigerstar to Tallstar’s side.

“If you want us to join your accursed TigerClan, you’ll have to make us—if you can,” Tallstar adds. 

Tigerstar seems to shift suddenly, changing tactics, his eyes going wide and shocked. “I only came here in  _ peace _ , with a plan to help all the Clans. I want you to recognize that this is the right decision, and come to me  _ willingly _ .” His eyes harden again as he raises his voice over the growing wind. “But don’t delay; StarClan will not wait forever.”

Thunder rolls across the sky as Firestar spins away from Tigerstar, coming to the edge of the Great Rock. 

“Cats of all Clans!” he yowls, firmly getting the attention back on him. “I can remain silent no longer. We can’t trust Tigerstar any more than we can trust a cornered badger.”

Swiftscar sees Tigerstar crouch down, tail lashing as though he might attack, before he seems to forcibly calm himself and stand up, looking away with a disinterested expression. 

“I know many of you may be wondering why Tigerstar has left ThunderClan,” Firestar goes on. “The truth is, this is a dangerous, power-hungry cat, and he is willing to  _ murder  _ other cats to get what he wants. He has tried to k—“

A huge flash of lightning cuts off the rest of Fireheart’s sentence, the whole clearing filling with white light as the loudest boom of thunder shakes the earth. Swiftscar presses against Brightheart before he even thinks about it, squeezing his eyes shut until the thunder stops. The wind has picked up into a howl, and when Swiftscar opens his eyes Tigerstar has stepped to the front of the Great Rock. 

“Thank you, StarClan, for showing your will!” he yowls. “This Gathering is over!”

He turns to Firestar, snarling something lost in the tearing wind, before leaping down to the grass. Leopardstar is right behind him, and they begin to run out of the clearing. Another bolt of lightning strikes, and this time Swiftscar keeps his eyes open, watching Firestar and Tallstar half jump, half slither down the Great Rock. 

Another booming roll of thunder shakes Fourtrees until even the massive oaks are groaning. Then the storm breaks, and the rain begins to fall. 

Water pelts them hard, each droplet like a tooth into their skin. They’re drenched in heartbeats, and near-blind as well as the rain comes down in sheets. It’s like drowning on solid ground. Distantly, Swiftscar hears Firestar call for his Clan, but through the thick rain and the lack of moonlight he can barely pick out the landscape, let alone individual cats. 

“Stay next to me!” Brightheart yowls in his ear. “We’re going to find shelter!”

Swiftscar presses against her pelt, squinting into the rain as they start to struggle out of the hollow. The slope is already mud-slick and slippery, and while they climb Swiftscar hears a muted screech. Turning, he sees what might be gold, standing out against the brown and green of the ground. 

“Someone fell!” he yowls, and Brightheart turns to look. 

“Thornclaw!” she cries, already spinning to get him, sliding down the hill to her brother. 

Swiftscar stumbles after her and manages to get a decent foothold. Brightheart and Thornclaw are little more than vaguely cat-shaped blurs below him. They push back up the hill and Swiftscar grabs Thornclaw’s scruff, helping to pull him up, before he reaches down to do the same for Brightheart. 

“It’s his paw!” she says, worry coloring her voice. “The twisted one, he hurt it again when he slipped!”

Swiftscar just nods. They can’t do anything until they get back to camp, which at this point might be more dangerous in the rain than just seeking shelter. The three of them manage to climb back to Cloudtail and struggle out of the hollow without any more trouble, and from there they wriggle under a large bush, staring out at the Gathering clearing. Every raindrop that hits the ground sprays a small sheen of mist and mud, making the ground not only slick and unfamiliar, but nearly invisible as well. 

“Do you really believe what Tigerstar was saying?” Thornclaw asks them after a moment. “About ruling the forest?”

“Not for a second!” Swiftscar says. Even this close, pressed together to fit under their makeshift shelter, they still have to practically shout to be heard. 

Cloudtail shakes his head, sending droplets of water flying. “I didn’t think even Tigerstar was capable of trying to take over the entire forest.”

“Do you think he’ll really do it? ShadowClan and RiverClan are on  _ both  _ sides of us. Could we handle them attacking both borders at the same time?” Brightheart asks fearfully.

“No,” Cloudtail says grimly, “We’d have to split in half to meet them both, and they’d each have their full Clans.”

“So that’s it?” Thornclaw asks. “Tigerstar wins all the Clans no matter what?”

“He  _ can’t, _ ” Swiftscar says. “There has to be something we can do. Maybe WindClan could help us—ShadowClan and RiverClan can’t attack four borders all at once, not without losing their advantage.”

The rain starts to slow, the clouds running out of water to support their deluge. All of them look out at the rain for a moment before Brightheart says, “Would WindClan help us, do you think?”

Swiftscar shrugs. “Firestar and Tallstar are friendly. It might work.”

The rain has slowed to a drizzle, the sky slowly lightening as the wind pushes the clouds away. From outside their sheltered bush, a few voices began to rise into the air. 

“Thornclaw! Thornclaw, where are you?” Mousefur. She sounded a bit frantic, and Swiftscar remembers that the last anyone else heard, Thornclaw was falling down a muddy slope with a screech. 

Other ThunderClanners voices rise, calling for one another—Swiftscar hears his own name, alongside Brightheart and Cloudtail. In the distance, someone shouts for WindClan. They must have been caught in the rain as well.

“I’m here!” Thornclaw cries, wriggling out from under the bush and limping to his former mentor.

Cloudtail scrambles out after him, Brightheart and Swiftscar right behind. “We’re okay! Is everyone else here?”

Firestar pads up to them, with Longtail, Whitestorm, and Cinderpelt at his side. “We’re all fine. We’re lucky no one got hurt by that lightning, or any falling trees.”

“Thornclaw hurt his leg again,” Mousefur puts in, “falling in the mud.”

“Let’s go back to camp then, and I’ll take care of it, before we have two cats with bum legs,” Cinderpelt says, giving her own twisted foot a shake and slinging mud through the air.

Cloudtail licks at his chest fur and then spits in disgust. “Maybe walk through a creek as well, I’m filthy.”

“We’re already wet as it is,” Swiftscar agrees, and they set off into the trees.

Firestar leads them, calling out warnings for particularly deep mud pits and hidden rocks, while Whitestorm brings up the back, making sure no cat is accidentally left behind.

They do, in fact, manage to find a fairly shallow creek that’s not running brown from earth sliding into it, and wade in. Swiftscar shivers and yelps at the shock of cold water, but makes himself go all the way under to wash off the worst of the dirt. The whole time, he, Cloudtail, and Brightheart walk so close that they’re touching, even when it’s more of a detriment than a help.

Back in camp, every warrior is anxiously awaiting the news of the Gathering. Many of them look soaked as well, clearly caught out in camp when the rain started. 

“We saw the storm clouds cover the moon,” Sandstorm says. “Did the Gathering end early?”

“It’s worse than that,” Firestar says, and he begins to explain everything that happened at the Gathering, and Tigerstar’s plans for the forest. 

Swiftscar listens to the Clan’s shocked muttering as Firestar explains what’s going on, listens to him reassure them all that  _ no _ , they are not going to join TigerClan. 

“I’m tired,” Brightheart says quietly. “We should go to sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”

Cloudtail snorts. “Yeah, sure they will. How does this look any better when the sun is out?”

Brightheart ducks her head a little. “I just meant...I want to go to sleep, is all.”

Cloudtail deflates. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

“He’s just being an idiot,” Swiftscar says, padding towards the warriors den. 

“An idiot who wants some ShadowClan fur to line his nest,” Cloudtail growls. 

Brightheart nudges him. “Also a wet idiot who should probably get some sleep before picking a fight.”

Cloudtail licks at her ear and obliges, following her into the den. For a moment, as they all pile up together, Swiftscar thinks back to Longtail’s comment about how they practically share a nest. He pulls away a little, trying to stay close without creating a pile like...well. He’s not sure what. 

“Hey, Swift, get back here,” Brightheart says, pawing half-heartedly at his head. “I’m cold.”

“I’m pretty sure me being soaking wet too won’t help much,” Swiftscar tells her, but he goes anyway, curling back up with the two of them.

Brightheart’s right. It is warmer.

-0-0-0-

A day or two later, the three of them are eating together with a couple of other warriors when a border patrol comes back into camp with a stranger.

It’s a skinny black cat with wide, violet eyes and big ears, and he carries a strange scent, almost like Twolegplace and almost like rogues. Swiftscar narrows his eyes. 

Sandstorm, beside him, leaps to her paws. “Ravenpaw!” she cries, running to him. Graystripe appears as well, bounding across camp as he echoes Sandstorm’s cry.

Ravenpaw? For a cat with an apprentice name, he looked pretty old. Sandstorm’s age, maybe, which would explain how she knew him.

“Hi, Sandstorm,” Ravenpaw says. “Where’s, uh, Firestar?”

“Right here,” Firestar says, padding out of his den. “What are you doing here? Not that you need a reason to visit, I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Ravenpaw touches his nose to Firestar’s pelt in greeting before he responds. “I wanted to pay my respects to Bluestar. I know I’m late for it, but it took me a little while to even decide I was going to, and another day or so before Barkey could convince me to come.” He ducks his head at that, licking at his chest fur. 

“It’s fine. I’ll show you to her gravesite, come on,” Firestar says, and Graystripe follows them. Sandstorm waves them away with her tail and pads back to her meal.

“Who was that?” Swiftscar asks as she sits down. “He seemed friendly with you.”

“Ravenpaw? Oh, I suppose you three wouldn’t have been born yet. He was an apprentice with Firestar, Graystripe, Dustpelt and I. Tigerstar’s apprentice, actually.”

“Really?” Cloudtail aims a suspicious look at the thorn barrier where Ravenpaw stood.

“Not like that,” Sandstorm says quickly. “Ravenpaw...he was never exactly the best warrior, and Tigerstar being Tigerstar didn’t help that any. He was the first to discover Tigerstar’s treachery, and we were all afraid Tigerstar would hurt him for it. Firestar and Graystripe helped him leave the Clan, and he lives on a Twoleg farm with a cat called Barley now.”

Swiftscar nods. “They were all good friends, weren’t they?” he says, thinking of how happy Firestar and Graystripe had looked to see Ravenpaw. 

“Yes. They were practically an inseparable trio—a bit like you three, though I daresay you’re closer. I wouldn’t be surprised if they stayed out all day seeing their old haunts and got mixed up in some kind of scheme along the way.”

“Firestar mixed up in a  _ scheme _ ?” Brightheart says with a disbelieving laugh.

Sandstorm shakes her head. “You think it’s funny, but he got in so much trouble as an apprentice and as a warrior, but it was always for good reason, you know? He never did anything really  _ wrong _ , at the end of the day.”

Swiftscar tips his head at the entrance to camp, trying to imagine a younger Firestar getting in trouble for  _ anything _ . 

“Well, there’s no point just sitting around because Firestar’s off on adventures again,” Whitestorm says after a moment. Sandstorm, if you’re done, could you lead a hunting patrol? Take whoever you want.”

“Of course,” Sandstorm gets to her feet. “You three want to come?”

“Sure,” Cloudtail says, burying the remains of his prey. 

“Tawnypaw!” Sandstorm calls. Her apprentice, who was sitting with some of the other ‘paws, scampers over. “We’re going hunting.”

“Cool! Swiftscar, you’re coming with us?” Tawnypaw asks, her eyes shining.

He nods, remembering abruptly that he hasn’t properly spoken to her or Bramblepaw in….close to a moon, probably. “Course I am. Can’t miss the chance to hang out with my sister, can I?”

Tawnypaw grins. “I bet I’ll catch the biggest piece of prey!”

“Probably,” Swiftscar agrees as they start out of camp. “Brightheart and I are out of practice.”

“Don’t worry,” Tawnypaw tells him seriously. “I’m sure you’re still a great hunter.”

He laughs and follows her into the forest. “Thanks, Tawnypaw. We’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the storm is maybe a bit (a lot) more dramatic than it was in the books, but I like drama. And Ravenpaw's arrived! He has purple eyes now because of That Post on tumblr saying they were stupid, and because I think he deserves purple eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight on the border, local therapist Ravenpaw, and Swiftscar making a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter today! Regular updates will continue Wednesday. 
> 
> A little note on my Ravenpaw here: I imagine that after spending a lot of time away from the Clans and with Barley (who, let's face it, probably has his own share of trauma thanks to BloodClan), Ravenpaw got through the worst of his anxiety and learned a lot about mental health--as far as cats go, anyway. So now he's Emotionally Mature or whatever (I have not read his uhh manga? Novella? So I don't know how he is in-canon after the first arc so don't come for me if I've done it very wrong).

The prey isn’t running in the first place they try—they only find a squirrel, and Sandstorm misses it, so they move to an area closer to the RiverClan border, even if all of them hate to do it.

“Swiftscar,” Tawnypaw says as they walk. Something in her voice makes him frown down at her. “Do you...do you think I’m like Tigerstar?”

He stops walking for a moment and she gets ahead of him before she catches on. “Why would you think that? Did some cat say something?”

“ _ Every  _ cat says something. Not...too me, but I hear it. They say things about Bramblepaw too, but I think they trust him more ‘cause he’s the leader’s apprentice,” Tawnypaw says miserably. “I...sometimes I think I’d be better off in ShadowClan, if every cat thinks I’m so much like Tigerstar.”

“You are  _ not  _ like Tigerstar,” Swiftscar says fiercely. 

“How do you know, though?” Tawnypaw asks. 

“Do you think he’s done things that are wrong? Like the dogs, or killing Brindleface, or trying to take over ThunderClan?”

“Of course!” Tawnypaw’s eyes are huge. “And I would never hurt anyone like that!”

“Well there you go. You’re not like Tigerstar if you think that what he does is wrong,” Swiftscar tells her. 

Tawnypaw nods at the ground. “Would you miss me, if I went to ShadowClan?”

“Of course!” Swiftscar says. “Bramblepaw would too, and so would Goldenflower, and Sandstorm.”

“Not everyone would miss me,” Tawnypaw says to her paws.

Swiftscar nudges her shoulder. “Lots of cats would, though. Look, here, Cloudtail! Brightheart!”

The two cats turn around, and Sandstorm gives him a warning look for being too loud. He tips his head in an apology and gestures for the others with his tail.

“Would you miss Tawnypaw if she went...away?” he asks.

Brightheart’s jaw actually drops somewhat in horror. “You aren’t thinking of  _ leaving  _ ThunderClan, are you? Why?”

“Cats keep saying things,” Swiftscar says. “That she’s like Tigerstar. She can’t be trusted.”

“You could never be like Tigerstar!” Brightheart exclaims. “Tawnypaw, we  _ know  _ you. You aren’t like him. You have to know that what he did was wrong, right?”

“Of course I do!” Tawnypaw says. 

“Then you don’t have anything to worry about,” Cloudtail says firmly. “And neither does anyone else. Also, for the record, I would miss you too, if you left.”

“Thanks,” Tawnypaw says. 

Swiftscar is about to keep going, but ahead of them Sandstorm raises her tail ahead of them. He thinks for a moment that she’s scented some prey, and then he hears it: cats yowling. 

Something is  _ wrong _ . 

They all unfreeze at the same time, running through the forest to the river that separates RiverClan and ThunderClan. On one side, Swiftscar recognizes Blackfoot, and several other warriors that he can’t name. He thinks that ShadowClan and RiverClan must really be one Clan now, if Tigerstar’s deputy is in their camp. 

More pressing, though, is the fact that Graystripe, Firestar, and Ravenpaw are on the stepping stones, along with Mistyfoot and two apprentices—Stormpaw and Featherpaw, Swiftscar thinks. And they’re struggling. 

“Swiftscar, help the others get the RiverClanners across!” Sandstorm yowls. “The rest of you, with me!”

Swiftscar runs down to the riverbank, where Mistyfoot is struggling across the last stepping stones. He’s struck by how  _ thin  _ she is—he’d only seen her a few days ago, how could she have lost so much weight? And her brother is nowhere to be found. Swiftscar doesn’t know why exactly she’s here, but he’s fairly certain Stonefur should be too.

There’s no time to think about it anymore—Mistyfoot reaches the last stone and Swiftscar has to reach out and help her onto dry land. She pants, scrabbling in the dirt, and finds her footing. After her Firestar helps Stormpaw over the stones and Swiftscar grabs him by the scruff to help him onto the bank. Firestar jumps after him and glances anxiously toward the battle; the ThunderClan cats seem to be winning, but it’s a near thing and reinforcements could be coming at any time.

“Help them, I’ve got this,” Swiftscar tells him, then jerks his head to Graystripe as well when the tom makes it across the last few stones. 

Ravenpaw is last, helping Featherpaw across the rocks. She slips, one hind paw splashing into the water, and Swiftscar is across three stones before he even thinks about it. Ravenpaw has already caught her scruff and pulled her onto the stone, but Swiftscar stays where he is until she reaches him, then slowly backs toward the shore. He jumps onto the dirt and turns to help her, but Featherpaw manages a good leap all on her own. For a second it looks like she won’t stay on solid ground and Swiftscar and Ravenpaw both lunge forward, but she finds her feet well enough.

Swiftscar looks back at the fight. With the addition of Firestar and Graystripe, the ThunderClan warriors seem to be winning. 

“I’m not much of a fighter anymore,” Ravenpaw says nervously. “I’ll stay with them.”

Staring at the writhing mass of cats, Swiftscar doesn’t particularly want to fight either. He takes a deep breath, and starts forward-

And Ravenpaw’s tail stops him.

“You’ve got a lot of scars, for a young cat. Far more than your fair share.”

“Yeah?” Swiftscar asks, his eyes on the fight. They’re  _ surviving _ , but for how long?

“I think there's a reason Sandstorm sent you to help us instead of fighting. I live with a...well, a cat with a lot of demons. So I know what it’s-“

“I’m fine,” Swiftscar tells him. If there was ever a time to fight for his Clan, it was now. 

He runs across the stepping stones to come at the battle from the side. Brightheart and Cloudtail are fighting side by side with Blackfoot. Swiftscar barrels into the huge ShadowClan deputy from the side, knocking him to the ground. 

Blackfoot twists under him, jaws open wide in a savage snarl, and his claws rake across Swiftscar’s muzzle. His head snaps sideways, and he swipes at Blackfoot’s vulnerable belly. The deputy plants his hind legs and throws Swiftscar at the same moment, so his blow barely connects before he’s flying through the air and landing on his side. 

All the air punches out of his lungs and he gasps. Blackfoot wastes no time in leaping on top of him, but Swiftscar wriggles away desperately before he can get a proper grip, scrabbling in the earth still wet from last night’s rain. Blackfoot’s teeth catch on his haunches, hauling him backward. 

The battle yowls of his Clanmates turn into the snap and howl of dogs, and Swiftscar shakes his head with his own growl loud enough to drown them out. He is  _ stronger  _ than this. He is. 

Not stronger than Blackfoot, though. Even already injured the ShadowClan deputy is a strong fighter, and he batters Swiftscar with a flurry of claws before Swiftscar manages to twist away. 

He catches a blurred glimpse of the others fighting only tail-lengths away. Then Blackfoot’s paw smashes into the side of his head and he goes down, skull thudding in the earth and his ears ringing. The dog howls are back, their words with them. 

_ Pack, pack, kill, kill _ . 

He’s going to die. He’s going to die and he can't...he doesn’t know, if it's in the forest or by the river, but does it matter? His enemies are everywhere, the dogs are everywhere. He doesn't know what to do. 

Everything turns into screaming and howling and flashes of color he can’t separate, and he doesn’t know how much time passes before something touches his shoulder. His eyes fly open—when did he close them?— and he leaps to his feet, lashing out at the threat, the  _ dog dog dog _ . 

Something is screaming his name or maybe just screaming, and Swiftscar stumbles backward, into a pool of blood. 

Except blood isn’t cold, and it doesn’t flow swiftly enough to threaten to drag his paws out from under him.

He blinks and the world clears. Brightheart and Cloudtail are several paces in front of him, identical blue eyes wide with worry.

“Swiftscar!” Brightheart says, bounding forward, and he backs up so quickly he ends up with water coursing by up to his belly. 

“Don’t touch me,” he says. “Don’t touch me.”

He’s shaking again. He’s afraid, he’s so  _ scared _ , and he can’t  _ think _ . All he knows is that he can’t have Brightheart touch him. Can’t have anyone touch him. He is so afraid.

“Okay,” Brightheart says, backing up until she’s next to Cloudtail again. “What do you want us to do?”

“I don’t—“ he moves to claw at the ground, and his claws splash through water. “I don’t  _ know,  _ I can’t, I can’t-“

“Swiftscar,” a voice says, unfamiliar. He looks over and finds Ravenpaw, who crossed the river again at some point. “Hey. I know you don’t know me, but my friend Barley, he has episodes like this too, okay? I can help, but I’m gonna need you to help  _ me _ , too.”

Swiftscar nods shakily. 

“Good. Now, do you want to get out of the river? The water’s pretty cold.”

Swiftscar pins his ears back. Ravenpaw is...he isn’t talking to Swiftscar like he’s a frightened kit, just another cat. It‘s. It is better. Swiftscar steps out of the river on numb and shaking legs and looks at Ravenpaw. He is aware, distantly, that he should probably be doing things, but he can’t really...he doesn’t know. He can’t think. Everything is slow and distant and cold. Ravenpaw said he could help, so he will.

“That’s good, Swiftscar,” Ravenpaw says. “What do you want to do from here? Personally I think going back to camp sounds good, but it’s up to you.”

Swiftscar nods. “Camp, camp is fine.” He doesn’t know if he  _ wants  _ to go back to camp, exactly, but standing out in the forest isn’t appealing.

“Good plan. Do you want some space? The others can go ahead of us.”

“Yeah. Yeah, um,” Swiftscar looks at Cloudtail and Brightheart. “They can go ahead. Please.”

Both of them hesitate, looking back at him even as they walk away, but they go. Behind them Swiftscar notices the battle ended at some point in all the time he lost. 

“Walk with me?” Ravenpaw asks after the last ThunderClan cat is on the other side of the river. “I’ll keep my distance.”

“Okay.” Swiftscar walks over to the stepping stones, makes his first wobbly jump across. He can feel Ravenpaw’s eyes on his back the whole way across, but he doesn fall. Barely even slips.

Ravenpaw meets him on the other side and they start walking, a good two tail-lengths apart. 

“Can I ask a stupid question?” Ravenpaw asks. Swiftpaw nods. “Has this happened to you before?”

“Sometimes. Not. Not this bad.”

“Does it happen for any special reason?” 

Swiftscar nods and stares at the ground. “When I fight. I think about, about the dogs.”

“The dogs?” Ravenpaw frowns. “I don’t...is that why the scars? You fought dogs?”

“The pack. There was—there was a dog pack. Me and Brightheart, we-“

“You don’t have to tell me, it’s alright, I shouldn’t have pressed.” Ravenpaw looks ahead at the forest. 

“How do you...know what to do?” Swiftscar asks. “No one else has.”

“My friend Barley, he lives on the farm with me? He lived with some really awful cats when he was younger, and he had to escape to save his life. Still gets nightmares sometimes. I get them too, but not as bad. I got out a lot earlier than him.” Ravenpaw says. 

They’re both quiet for a moment, then Ravenpaw asks, “So this happens when you fight?”

Swiftscar nods.

“Not to, well, undermine anything you may be doing, but maybe you should stop fighting then?” Ravenpaw asks, a careful edge to his voice. 

“I...I don’t know. I have thought about it,” Swiftscar admits. “I just don’t know. I worked so hard, being a warrior was the  _ only  _ thing I wanted. I  _ fought a dog pack  _ to become a warrior. So what do I do if I can’t be a warrior?”

“It seems simple enough,” Ravenpaw says. “You could be a medicine cat. Only if you want, that is.”

“But isn’t that a  _ waste _ ?” Swiftscar asks. “Of everything I did to get here?”

Ravenpaw looks at him, his violet eyes gentle. “Am I a waste?”

“I—What?” Swiftscar stares at him, then has to focus on where he’s going as he stumbles over a tree root. 

“I was training to be a warrior. And I left ThunderClan. I live on a Twoleg farm now and I support no one but myself and Barley. Isn’t that a waste of all my training?” 

“That’s different. Sandstorm said...you were Tigerstar’s apprentice. You were in  _ danger. _ ”

Ravenpaw blinks. “Tiger _ star _ ? Firestar didn’t mention that, just that he’d left ThunderClan….but that’s not the point. The point is, aren’t you in danger, Swiftscar?”

“No,” Swiftscar says, even though he’s thinking about it. Maybe.

“But if you have an episode like that in battle, you aren’t always going to have Clanmates around to save you, and you could put other cats in danger. I’m not going to tell you what to do with your life, just...sometimes the harder path is not the one worth taking,” Ravenpaw tells him.

“I’ll think about it,” Swiftscar says, and the black tom nods.

“Good. Assuming ThunderClan camp is still where I remember it is, we should be getting close. Are you alright now, or is there something else you need me to do?” Ravenpaw asks, purple eyes concerned and almost...almost anxious. 

Swiftscar shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“That’s what you said right before charging into a fight that started this whole thing,” Ravenpaw points out. 

“I really am, this time,” Swiftscar insists. “It’s  _ camp, _ not a battlefield. And Brightheart and Cloudtail will probably be worried. I’ve never. It’s never taken this long.”

“What, to want to be near other cats again?” Ravenpaw asks. “Everything happens on its own time. If they’re really your friends, they’ll understand.”

Swiftscar just nods, and then they’re at camp. Whitestorm is on sentry duty, and aside from a concerned look at them both he doesn’t acknowledge Swiftscar arriving much later than the rest of the patrol. 

“Thank you for helping me, really,” Swiftscar says softly when they get inside. 

“Of course,” Ravenpaw says, but he’s already scanning the camp, his claws flexing. “I need to go talk to Firestar, if you don’t mind?”

Swiftscar nods toward the leader's den, where Firestar is talking to Sandstorm. “Sure.”

Ravenpaw ducks his head quickly and heads over, and Swiftscar can see his wide eyes as he hisses something to Firestar. Firestar’s eyes widen a bit too and he gestures into his den as he talks to Ravenpaw. Swiftscar can’t even really process that before Brightheart and Cloudtail trot up to him.

They both stop a good distance away, unsure, and Swiftscar wants to take that  _ look _ off their faces but he also isn’t sure if he wants them close yet.

“Swiftscar?” Brightheart says gently, after a moment. “Are you okay?” 

He swallows before he speaks, makes himself  _ think  _ for a second. “I’m better now. I just...that was-“

“Bad,” Cloudtail finishes. “We were worried for a minute there.”

“Is it okay if we…” Brightheart trails off, gesturing at the space between them with her tail.

“I...I think so. Maybe,” Swiftscar says.

All three of them take a step forward at the same time. And then another. And another. And then Swiftscar is staring at Cloudtail and Brightheart, all of them so close they’re nearly touching. He’s trembling, just slightly, and he can’t tell if it’s fear or something else. No one moves.

Finally he surges forward, ducking his head between them. Brightheart pushes her face into his neck and Cloudtail gently nuzzles at his cheek. He can  _ feel  _ them holding back from everything they want to do. 

“I’m okay,” he whispers. “I’m okay now.”

“We’ve got you,” Brightheart says. “Whatever you want to do, remember?” 

“I feel like I want a nap,” Swiftscar says softly. It’s true, he  _ is  _ tired, and kind of wet, and he has a feeling things will be better if he sleeps for a bit. “And then I want to talk to Cinderpelt.”

“Okay,” Cloudtail says. “Can we come with you, or-“

“Yeah,” Swiftscar says. “Please.”

“Well, if you ask so nicely,” Brightheart purrs, and they walk into the warriors den—not pelts brushing, so close they’re nearly one cat, but close.

Swiftscar lays down first and watches the other two hover, unsure once again.

“You can lay with me,” he says. “Just...maybe not on top. Right now.”

“‘Course,” Cloudtail murmurs, and curls up behind Swiftscar. 

Brightheart lays in front of him, and doesn’t protest when he gently puts one paw on top of her. 

“I think I’m going to become a medicine cat,” he says to the quiet den.

Instantly the two bodies next to him stiffen with tension and he curses inwardly. Good job bringing up a touchy subject when they’re about to go to sleep. 

“Are you sure?” Cloudtail asks from behind him. “Not to second-guess you and of  _ course  _ you can be a medicine cat, it’s just-“

“I’m pretty sure,” he replies quietly. “I’m going to talk to Cinderpelt later. I can’t keep putting myself and every other cat in danger in battle just because I’m afraid of not being a warrior.”

“Swiftscar, you  _ don’t  _ put us in danger,” Brightheart tries.

“But I do. I can’t be the cat who needs rescuing, or who fails to protect someone who needs it. And I could work on it, to try and get around it, but I’m not entirely sure I want to anymore.”

Brightheart remains tense for another moment before she relaxes. “Okay. If that’s what you decide to do, that’s...good, and we’ll support you.”

Swiftscar puts his head down. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t hear if they respond, his eyes already drifting closed as the words leave his mouth. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm pretty sure you all saw it coming, but Swiftie's a medicine cat now! Almost! It's great. Oh, and Tawnypaw was supposed to have left by now, but (it's not very obvious in hindsight oops) in my head, a mix of Swiftscar and other cats helped her out and she wound up not leaving, at least....not yet. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are, as always, the best! Thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cinderpelt and Swiftscar have some important conversations. The threats to the Clans close in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, uploading on schedule again? A miracle! Anyway, hello, here’s a new chapter in which Cinderpelt briefly becomes a vessel for all my own thoughts (and all those questions about what becomes of the OT3 now get answered! fret not, I wouldn’t tag it if I never even made it “canon” per se). We’re getting close to the end!

“Hey, Cinderpelt?”

“Hmm?” The gray medicine cat is near the back of her den, half-invisible in the shadows. Swiftscar shifts where he stands in the entrance, glances over his shoulder. He’s awkward, suddenly, when this is really no different from any other time he’s gone to see Cinderpelt. 

“Do you ever wish you’d become a warrior instead?” he asks, instead of just  _ asking his question _ .

Cinderpelt turns. “This isn’t a conversation we should have standing in the entranceway. Come in.”

He ducks inside and sits in one of the nests Cinderpelt reserves for patients. She busies herself with her herbs for a moment and then sits in front of him.

She takes a visible breath. “You mean, why didn’t I continue to try and be a warrior despite my injury?”

He nods.

“Simply put, I couldn’t. It hurt me more to try and be what I had been than to embrace what I am now. I have  _ limits _ , and it’s worse to try and overcome them than it is to respect them. With time and a lot of training, there’s a chance I could’ve been a warrior, yes, but in the end I just couldn’t.”

“Do you...regret it? Picking this life?”

Cinderpelt sighs. “Some days, when it’s leafbare and my leg is stiff and it hurts no matter what I do, I wish I hadn’t had the injury. And some days when I watch my brother come back from a hunting patrol, I wish I could go with him. But I  _ can’t  _ be a warrior. You have to understand, Swiftscar, that my leg? It hurts, all the time. Running isn’t something I can do often. Jumping? Fighting on my hind legs? I just can’t do it. So no, I don’t regret respecting my body and trying to lessen my pain. I wish things had gone differently, but I don’t regret the way they  _ did  _ go.”

Swiftscar looks at the ground, absorbing everything Cinderpelt is saying. She doesn’t speak again, and he gets the feeling she’s waiting for him to say something. Finally, he just blurts it out.

“What if I want to be a medicine cat?”

Cinderpelt blinks for a second. “Well, you would be my apprentice, for a start. You already know some herbs, but I’d have to teach you all of them. There would be a lot of sickness and injuries to deal with, and you would have limits that you just wouldn't have as a warrior.”

“The medicine cat code,” Swiftscar says. “No mate, no kits. I know.”

“It’s an idiotic rule, I think, but it’s a rule nonetheless,” Cinderpelt says. “Are you sure you want to do this? You’ve always been so adamant about being a warrior.”

“I had...a talk. With Ravenpaw. He said some things that made sense, I guess.” Swiftscar scuffs at the ground with one paw. “I did well with Snowkit, you said so yourself.” He nods to the back of the den, where the kit is still resting.

“He is healing up nicely. Another day or two and I can clear him for light apprentice duties, I think. He’s due to be a ‘paw.”

Swiftscar nods. “Yeah. So it would really be okay if I…?”

“Of course!” Cinderpelt says. “I was half-anticipating this, anyway. It was just a question of how stubborn you were exactly, I guess.”

“What, StarClan didn’t send you an omen?” Swiftscar asks. He’s mostly teasing, a little curious.

“StarClan are...interesting, to say the least. They don’t actually send many omens or signs unless something very big is going to happen. They’re not perfect either; just a bunch of dead cats, some with the advantage of being very old, but still just cats nonetheless,” Cinderpelt informs him. “If you really decide to go through with this, I can take you to the next half moon meeting, you’ll meet StarClan there, plus the other medicine cats.”

“Right. Will they, uh,” Swiftscar flexes his claws, “accept me? As a medicine cat?”

“Who, the other cats? Or StarClan?” Cinderpelt doesn’t wait for his response. “Of course they will. Littlecloud is the ShadowClan medicine cat, you know, and he used to be a warrior until pretty recently. Yellowfang was a warrior first, as well. And StarClan has rejected  _ leaders _ , in the past—only in very special circumstances—but never a medicine cat. You’ll be fine, Swiftscar.”

“If you say so,” he murmurs. “But what if I...regret it? Later on?”

Cinderpelt flicks her tail, dismissive. “Somehow I doubt you will, or you’ll figure it out pretty early that this life isn’t for you. If that happens, we go our separate ways. I won’t be needing a new apprentice for some time yet.”

“Okay,” Swiftscar starts, “but-“

There’s a loud yowl in camp, cutting off his words, and both of them scramble out of the medicine den to see what’s going on. 

Mudclaw is standing in the entrance to the camp, breathing hard, his eyes wild. Firestar is already in front of him.

“What’s going on?” he demands.

“TigerClan,” Mudclaw gasps, “WindClan is under attack.”

Before Swiftscar can even properly process that, Firestar is barking orders for a patrol. Even as cat’s names are being called Swiftscar is stepping forward automatically, and then Cinderpelt gently stops him. 

“You’re a medicine cat now, sort of,” she says gently. “And if we’re facing TigerClan I’ll be needing help.”

Swiftscar watches as Cloudtail and Brightheart join the battle patrol and tears his eyes away. Cinderpelt is staring past him, and when he follows her gaze it’s to Brackenfur as he joins the group as well. 

“Is it hard? Watching him head off without you?” he asks her.

“Yes,” Cinderpelt says. “When I was young Yellowfang just snapped at me to get over it, it’s not like I’d be much help if I went with him, or like he’d be much help if he stayed. But I always worry.”

“Does it get easier?” 

She smiles a bit ruefully. “To do my job despite worrying about him? Yes. To watch him go off without knowing what shape he’ll be in when he comes back? No.”

Swiftscar doesn't have anything to say to that. Firestar gives the signal for the patrol to leave, and Cloudtail and Brightheart both break away, running up to him. Their noses press into the fur on both sides of his face.

“We’ll be back soon,” Brightheart whispers.

“We’ll watch out for each other,” Cloudtail promises.

“Be  _ safe, _ ” Swiftscar tells them, and then they’re pulling away, running to catch up with the others.

Cinderpelt is looking at him when he turns back to her. “You three are...very sweet,” she says. “You know I’m pretty sure half the Clan is expecting Brightheart and Cloudtail to have kits any time now.”

The thought, somehow, sends a sick jolt through Swiftscar’s belly. “And the other half?”

“Well, you’ve crushed their hopes—they were expecting  _ you  _ and Brightheart, I think,” she says with a laugh.

“What, no one thought about Cloudtail and I?” Swiftscar asks. He thinks he’s joking, probably. Two toms and two she-cats isn’t unheard of, exactly, but it’s not common, either.

“Hmm, maybe,” Cinderpelt says. “Personally, I think the way you look at the two of them—and the way they look at you, and at each other—I don’t think any of you could pick one over another. But I’m just the medicine cat. You don’t have to listen to anything  _ I  _ say about relationships.”

Swiftscar ducks his head a bit.  _ I don’t think any of you could pick one over another _ . He imagines Brightheart and Cloudtail, with him, the way they are now, for the rest of their lives. Then he remembers: If he’s going to be a medicine cat, he can’t have them. He can’t have that anymore.

“Does it matter, anyway?” he asks, hearing the bitterness in his own voice. “Can’t take a mate anymore.”

Cinderpelt hums. “The code says that a medicine cat will not take  _ a  _ mate or have kits. It says nothing about  _ two  _ mates.”

Swiftscar snorts. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“Don’t you?” Cinderpelt gives him a wry smile. “I’m the medicine cat here. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

It’s a joke. It’s definitely a joke. Swiftscar smiles anyway and pretends that it isn’t as he follows her back to her den. Their den, maybe, now. 

“So is there anything special we need to do?” he asks. “To prepare, I mean.”

“We have enough herbs to take care of our Clanmates,” Cinderpelt says. “We should make sure Snowkit is set for the rest of the day, in case we get too many patients to get to him later.”

Swiftscar nods and heads over to Snowkit, who’s awake now, blinking up at him. 

“Uh, hello,” he says, and then remembers: Snowkit is deaf. “Cinderpelt? Is there a way for me to tell him what I’m going to do?”

“Brackenfur was trying to work it out the last few days,” she says. “Try showing him the herbs and things before you begin. Here.”

She pads over, flicks her tail to get Snowkit’s attention, and slowly makes a series of gestures that end with her pointing a paw at the herbs Swiftscar already has ready. Snowkit looks from the leaves back to Cinderpelt, who nods, and then tips her head, questioning. He nods back.

“There,” she says. “I think he understands. Brackenfur’s better with the signs than I am, but I know enough.”

Swiftscar nods and starts to remove the poultices from Snowkit’s sides. His talon wounds are looking better, even to Swiftscar’s untrained eyes. Blood wells in them as he watches, but doesn’t spill into the kit’s fur. He works quickly, and in a matter of moments he has fresh poultices on all of the gashes. 

He steps back and casts a questioning glance at Cinderpelt. 

“Here.” She guides him into Snowkit’s line of sight. “Brackenfur worked out a sign for ‘finished’ pretty early.”

She lifts both her forepaws off the ground and slams them down, then glances at Swiftscar. He copies her movement, watching Snowkit. The kit breaks into a smile and nods, pushing himself up on his own paws to do the same thing. Cinderpelt laughs. 

“He’s a fast learner, I think. Sometimes it’s hard to know if he’s just following along or not, but I think he picks up more than you’d think,” she says.

They entertained Snowkit for a little while—Cinderpelt showed Swiftscar a few more signs, and they played a limited game of mossball—before they heard voices outside.

“Cinderpelt!” Frostfur called. She’d been one of the few cats left behind to guard the camp.

Cinderpelt skidded out of the den, bearly on three legs, and Swiftscar was half a step behind her. Firestar was standing in the entrance with the rest of the battle patrol, and from what Swiftscar could see of them...they looked unhurt. Totally fine, but  _ defeated _ , somehow. 

Cinderpelt slows to a confused halt, pads across the last bit of space to their Clanmates.

“Firestar?” she asks. Swiftscar thinks she sounds almost afraid. 

So is he.

Firestar hangs his head. “We were too late,” he says roughly. “Gorsepaw is dead. Every other cat is injured. And Tigerstar left us a message.”

Swiftscar is close enough to see Cinderpelt’s eyes widen. “What did he say?” she asks in a near whisper.

“We join TigerClan now, or we face the consequences. Given what Tigerstar did to WindClan…”

“Are you  _ considering  _ it?” Swiftscar snaps, incredulous. 

Firestar glares at him. “Of course not. I was just going to say that it will be difficult. We might lose cats.”

“It’s  _ TigerClan _ ,” Cinderpelt says. “Two Clans combined into one. We always knew it was going to be a hard battle.”

“It’s different, seeing the aftermath for yourself,” Firestar tells her. After a long pause, he finally picks up his head and visibly forces himself to straighten. “I arranged a meeting with Tallstar for tomorrow. We’ll be expecting a fight—I’ll need as many warriors as I can spare, considering WindClan’s condition.”

Cinderpelt nods. 

The Clan goes their separate ways to their dens. Anticipation of the battle hangs heavy and grim in the air, a weight settling in the sky. Cloudtail and Brightheart come up to Swiftscar. 

“Hi,” Cloudtail says. 

Despite everything that’s happened and that is  _ going _ to happen, Swiftscar smiles. “Hey.”

“Are you...still sleeping with us?” Brightheart asks. She looks up at him for a second and then fixes her eye on the ground.

Swiftscar glances at Cinderpelt, who gives him a smile with layers of meaning he can’t decipher and nods. “Absolutely.”

Cloudtail tips his head a bit. “You’re a medicine cat officially now, though. Right? So shouldn’t you be sleeping in Cinderpelt’s den?”

“Not officially. Probably not for a few days. Cinderpelt wants me to be  _ really _ sure, and anyway I’m pretty sure Firestar has enough to worry about without conducting any official ceremonies,” Swiftscar says.

Brightheart bumps against him. “Well, I hope it works out. In the meantime, we get to sleep together in the warriors den for a little while longer.”

Swiftscar ducks into the den, casting a glance at her over his shoulder. “Won’t you two miss me?”

“‘Course we will,” Cloudtail says, and then makes a sound like the beginning of a word before he clears his throat, ducking his head. 

They settle into their nests again and Swiftscar tries not to think about the fact that they only have a few nights left to curl up together like this. Maybe once he’s a medicine cat he can still sleep in the warriors den when Cinderpelt doesn’t need him. He lays down. The rest of the warriors are still outside for the moment, leaving the den private. 

“You know, Cinderpelt told me something today,” Swiftscar says into the quiet, and then mentally curses himself for bringing it up. 

“What, did you learn a new herb?” Cloudtail asks, teasing. 

“Hey,” Brightheart says, “be nice. Herbs are cool.”

“It’s not herbs,” Swiftscar says, and nearly kicks himself again. “Apparently half the Clan is expecting you two to announce some kits any day now.”

Brightheart makes a face that might be described as vaguely disgusted. “ _ Really _ ?”

Cloudtail flattens his ears, hurt flickering across his face before he hides it behind a joking look. “What do you mean? Am I not good enough for you or something?”

“Not  _ that, _ ” Brightheart shoves him. “A proper mate. Kits. Right now, at least. Feels awfully fast.”

Cloudtail relaxes and looks at Swiftscar, “So why are cats apparently saying stuff like that anyway?”

Swiftscar shrugs, not looking at him. “I guess you two have spent a lot of time together?”

“I spend a lot of time with  _ you _ , too,” Brightheart says. “And it’s not like you and Cloudtail are strangers. Probably some cats are waiting on  _ our  _ kits.” She wrinkles her nose. “Though they should keep their noses out of our business, I think. All any cat in this Clan seems to care about is when you’re going to have a litter.”

Swiftscar nods. “I know. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Brightheart says. “Not your fault, anyway. Come on, let’s go to sleep, we’ve got...there’s a big fight tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Swiftscar’s heart twists at the thought of them charging into battle without him, even  _ knowing  _ he wouldn’t be any help. “Yeah, there is.”

-0-0-0-

Except, there’s not. When the ThunderClan warriors—every last one of them, save for Tawnypaw, Bramblepaw, and Speckletail who stayed to guard camp—return, they’re completely unharmed. But somehow, Swiftscar notes, more shaken than they were before. 

“I’m starting to get tired of making battle preparations for fights that don’t happen,” he jokes to Cinderpelt.

If she notices him speaking, she doesn’t respond. “Firestar? What happened?”

“Tigerstar met us with reinforcements—a bunch of cats from Twolegplace that call themselves BloodClan,” Firestar says.

BloodClan? Swiftscar searches the ThunderClan patrol as they slowly trickle into camp. Brightheart and Cloudtail are leaning on each other; Brightheart especially looks  _ awful _ . 

“They’re terrible cats,” Firestar continues, “claws reinforced with dog claws and collars studded with dog teeth. BloodClan’s leader, Scourge...he wants the forest for himself. Tigerstar tried to fight him and Scourge...killed him. All nine lives, one after the other. It was a wound even StarClan could not heal.”

Cinderpelt gasps. Swiftscar wants to run to Brightheart, but he’s not sure his legs will carry him that far. Dog teeth, dog claws. Tigerstar dying nine times over. He can barely imagine it.

Firestar shakes his head. “BloodClan has given us three days to make a choice: Flee, or fight.” 

“They killed  _ Tigerstar _ ,” Cinderpelt says. “If we fight, we could lose everyone.”

“If we flee, we lose our  _ homes _ ,” Sandstorm snaps. 

“It’s a terrible decision,” Firestar says. “BloodClan is strong, yes, but they are a small force. If we could convince the other Clans to join us we would have a chance.”

A  _ chance.  _ Swiftscar finally finds his feet and stumbles over to Cloudtail and Brightheart. He gets on Brightheart’s other side and presses against her. Dog claws. She watched a cat killed by dog claws today, never mind that a cat wielded them.

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

“No one was hurt,” Brightheart says. “No one but Tigerstar.”

“That isn’t what I asked.” 

She stands firmly for another moment before she slumps. “No, I’m really  _ not _ . I’m  _ scared, _ Swiftscar. You weren’t there, you didn’t see it...they’ll kill us. Maybe, with all the Clans, we could drive them out, but how many cats would we lose?”

“You can’t be saying we just give up?” Cloudtail asks. “Run away?”

“I don’t know,” Brightheart says in a miserable voice. “I just...I don’t want to lose anyone.”

Swiftscar rubs his cheek against hers. “I know. We have three days to figure it out. I’m sure Firestar will be able to convince WindClan to help, and probably RiverClan and ShadowClan now that Tigerstar’s gone. We’ll be okay.”

“You can’t  _ promise  _ that,” Brightheart hisses. “We have no idea what’s going to happen. BloodClan is  _ ruthless _ . I don’t like the idea of running away any more than you do, but if it keeps us all alive, maybe it’s the best choice.”

“No matter what happens,” Cloudtail tells her, “whether we run or we fight, we’ll stick together. All three of us. I promise you that. Where you go, I’ll go.”

“And me,” Swiftscar says firmly.

Brightheart leans into him and sighs. They all stand together, thinking of BloodClan and cats with dog claws and each other, and what they would do to be by each other’s sides for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading! Sorry about the offscreen battle scenes, I planned to have Swiftscar present for them, but with the way things were progressing it didn’t fit right, especially after his talk with Ravenpaw, so what would’ve been at least 2-3 chapters is now one. I hope it worked alright anyway! 
> 
> Feedback, comments, and kudos make my week!! I’ll see you all next Wednesday!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cinderpelt and Swiftscar have some important conversations. The threats to the Clans close in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, uploading on schedule again? A miracle! Anyway, hello, here’s a new chapter in which Cinderpelt briefly becomes a vessel for all my own thoughts (and all those questions about what becomes of the OT3 now get answered! fret not, I wouldn’t tag it if I never even made it “canon” per se). We’re getting close to the end!

“Hey, Cinderpelt?”

“Hmm?” The gray medicine cat is near the back of her den, half-invisible in the shadows. Swiftscar shifts where he stands in the entrance, glances over his shoulder. He’s awkward, suddenly, when this is really no different from any other time he’s gone to see Cinderpelt. 

“Do you ever wish you’d become a warrior instead?” he asks, instead of just  _ asking his question _ .

Cinderpelt turns. “This isn’t a conversation we should have standing in the entranceway. Come in.”

He ducks inside and sits in one of the nests Cinderpelt reserves for patients. She busies herself with her herbs for a moment and then sits in front of him.

She takes a visible breath. “You mean, why didn’t I continue to try and be a warrior despite my injury?”

He nods.

“Simply put, I couldn’t. It hurt me more to try and be what I had been than to embrace what I am now. I have  _ limits _ , and it’s worse to try and overcome them than it is to respect them. With time and a lot of training, there’s a chance I could’ve been a warrior, yes, but in the end I just couldn’t.”

“Do you...regret it? Picking this life?”

Cinderpelt sighs. “Some days, when it’s leafbare and my leg is stiff and it hurts no matter what I do, I wish I hadn’t had the injury. And some days when I watch my brother come back from a hunting patrol, I wish I could go with him. But I  _ can’t  _ be a warrior. You have to understand, Swiftscar, that my leg? It hurts, all the time. Running isn’t something I can do often. Jumping? Fighting on my hind legs? I just can’t do it. So no, I don’t regret respecting my body and trying to lessen my pain. I wish things had gone differently, but I don’t regret the way they  _ did  _ go.”

Swiftscar looks at the ground, absorbing everything Cinderpelt is saying. She doesn’t speak again, and he gets the feeling she’s waiting for him to say something. Finally, he just blurts it out.

“What if I want to be a medicine cat?”

Cinderpelt blinks for a second. “Well, you would be my apprentice, for a start. You already know some herbs, but I’d have to teach you all of them. There would be a lot of sickness and injuries to deal with, and you would have limits that you just wouldn't have as a warrior.”

“The medicine cat code,” Swiftscar says. “No mate, no kits. I know.”

“It’s an idiotic rule, I think, but it’s a rule nonetheless,” Cinderpelt says. “Are you sure you want to do this? You’ve always been so adamant about being a warrior.”

“I had...a talk. With Ravenpaw. He said some things that made sense, I guess.” Swiftscar scuffs at the ground with one paw. “I did well with Snowkit, you said so yourself.” He nods to the back of the den, where the kit is still resting.

“He is healing up nicely. Another day or two and I can clear him for light apprentice duties, I think. He’s due to be a ‘paw.”

Swiftscar nods. “Yeah. So it would really be okay if I…?”

“Of course!” Cinderpelt says. “I was half-anticipating this, anyway. It was just a question of how stubborn you were exactly, I guess.”

“What, StarClan didn’t send you an omen?” Swiftscar asks. He’s mostly teasing, a little curious.

“StarClan are...interesting, to say the least. They don’t actually send many omens or signs unless something very big is going to happen. They’re not perfect either; just a bunch of dead cats, some with the advantage of being very old, but still just cats nonetheless,” Cinderpelt informs him. “If you really decide to go through with this, I can take you to the next half moon meeting, you’ll meet StarClan there, plus the other medicine cats.”

“Right. Will they, uh,” Swiftscar flexes his claws, “accept me? As a medicine cat?”

“Who, the other cats? Or StarClan?” Cinderpelt doesn’t wait for his response. “Of course they will. Littlecloud is the ShadowClan medicine cat, you know, and he used to be a warrior until pretty recently. Yellowfang was a warrior first, as well. And StarClan has rejected  _ leaders _ , in the past—only in very special circumstances—but never a medicine cat. You’ll be fine, Swiftscar.”

“If you say so,” he murmurs. “But what if I...regret it? Later on?”

Cinderpelt flicks her tail, dismissive. “Somehow I doubt you will, or you’ll figure it out pretty early that this life isn’t for you. If that happens, we go our separate ways. I won’t be needing a new apprentice for some time yet.”

“Okay,” Swiftscar starts, “but-“

There’s a loud yowl in camp, cutting off his words, and both of them scramble out of the medicine den to see what’s going on. 

Mudclaw is standing in the entrance to the camp, breathing hard, his eyes wild. Firestar is already in front of him.

“What’s going on?” he demands.

“TigerClan,” Mudclaw gasps, “WindClan is under attack.”

Before Swiftscar can even properly process that, Firestar is barking orders for a patrol. Even as cat’s names are being called Swiftscar is stepping forward automatically, and then Cinderpelt gently stops him. 

“You’re a medicine cat now, sort of,” she says gently. “And if we’re facing TigerClan I’ll be needing help.”

Swiftscar watches as Cloudtail and Brightheart join the battle patrol and tears his eyes away. Cinderpelt is staring past him, and when he follows her gaze it’s to Brackenfur as he joins the group as well. 

“Is it hard? Watching him head off without you?” he asks her.

“Yes,” Cinderpelt says. “When I was young Yellowfang just snapped at me to get over it, it’s not like I’d be much help if I went with him, or like he’d be much help if he stayed. But I always worry.”

“Does it get easier?” 

She smiles a bit ruefully. “To do my job despite worrying about him? Yes. To watch him go off without knowing what shape he’ll be in when he comes back? No.”

Swiftscar doesn't have anything to say to that. Firestar gives the signal for the patrol to leave, and Cloudtail and Brightheart both break away, running up to him. Their noses press into the fur on both sides of his face.

“We’ll be back soon,” Brightheart whispers.

“We’ll watch out for each other,” Cloudtail promises.

“Be  _ safe, _ ” Swiftscar tells them, and then they’re pulling away, running to catch up with the others.

Cinderpelt is looking at him when he turns back to her. “You three are...very sweet,” she says. “You know I’m pretty sure half the Clan is expecting Brightheart and Cloudtail to have kits any time now.”

The thought, somehow, sends a sick jolt through Swiftscar’s belly. “And the other half?”

“Well, you’ve crushed their hopes—they were expecting  _ you  _ and Brightheart, I think,” she says with a laugh.

“What, no one thought about Cloudtail and I?” Swiftscar asks. He thinks he’s joking, probably. Two toms and two she-cats isn’t unheard of, exactly, but it’s not common, either.

“Hmm, maybe,” Cinderpelt says. “Personally, I think the way you look at the two of them—and the way they look at you, and at each other—I don’t think any of you could pick one over another. But I’m just the medicine cat. You don’t have to listen to anything  _ I  _ say about relationships.”

Swiftscar ducks his head a bit.  _ I don’t think any of you could pick one over another _ . He imagines Brightheart and Cloudtail, with him, the way they are now, for the rest of their lives. Then he remembers: If he’s going to be a medicine cat, he can’t have them. He can’t have that anymore.

“Does it matter, anyway?” he asks, hearing the bitterness in his own voice. “Can’t take a mate anymore.”

Cinderpelt hums. “The code says that a medicine cat will not take  _ a  _ mate or have kits. It says nothing about  _ two  _ mates.”

Swiftscar snorts. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“Don’t you?” Cinderpelt gives him a wry smile. “I’m the medicine cat here. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t.”

It’s a joke. It’s definitely a joke. Swiftscar smiles anyway and pretends that it isn’t as he follows her back to her den. Their den, maybe, now. 

“So is there anything special we need to do?” he asks. “To prepare, I mean.”

“We have enough herbs to take care of our Clanmates,” Cinderpelt says. “We should make sure Snowkit is set for the rest of the day, in case we get too many patients to get to him later.”

Swiftscar nods and heads over to Snowkit, who’s awake now, blinking up at him. 

“Uh, hello,” he says, and then remembers: Snowkit is deaf. “Cinderpelt? Is there a way for me to tell him what I’m going to do?”

“Brackenfur was trying to work it out the last few days,” she says. “Try showing him the herbs and things before you begin. Here.”

She pads over, flicks her tail to get Snowkit’s attention, and slowly makes a series of gestures that end with her pointing a paw at the herbs Swiftscar already has ready. Snowkit looks from the leaves back to Cinderpelt, who nods, and then tips her head, questioning. He nods back.

“There,” she says. “I think he understands. Brackenfur’s better with the signs than I am, but I know enough.”

Swiftscar nods and starts to remove the poultices from Snowkit’s sides. His talon wounds are looking better, even to Swiftscar’s untrained eyes. Blood wells in them as he watches, but doesn’t spill into the kit’s fur. He works quickly, and in a matter of moments he has fresh poultices on all of the gashes. 

He steps back and casts a questioning glance at Cinderpelt. 

“Here.” She guides him into Snowkit’s line of sight. “Brackenfur worked out a sign for ‘finished’ pretty early.”

She lifts both her forepaws off the ground and slams them down, then glances at Swiftscar. He copies her movement, watching Snowkit. The kit breaks into a smile and nods, pushing himself up on his own paws to do the same thing. Cinderpelt laughs. 

“He’s a fast learner, I think. Sometimes it’s hard to know if he’s just following along or not, but I think he picks up more than you’d think,” she says.

They entertained Snowkit for a little while—Cinderpelt showed Swiftscar a few more signs, and they played a limited game of mossball—before they heard voices outside.

“Cinderpelt!” Frostfur called. She’d been one of the few cats left behind to guard the camp.

Cinderpelt skidded out of the den, bearly on three legs, and Swiftscar was half a step behind her. Firestar was standing in the entrance with the rest of the battle patrol, and from what Swiftscar could see of them...they looked unhurt. Totally fine, but  _ defeated _ , somehow. 

Cinderpelt slows to a confused halt, pads across the last bit of space to their Clanmates.

“Firestar?” she asks. Swiftscar thinks she sounds almost afraid. 

So is he.

Firestar hangs his head. “We were too late,” he says roughly. “Gorsepaw is dead. Every other cat is injured. And Tigerstar left us a message.”

Swiftscar is close enough to see Cinderpelt’s eyes widen. “What did he say?” she asks in a near whisper.

“We join TigerClan now, or we face the consequences. Given what Tigerstar did to WindClan…”

“Are you  _ considering  _ it?” Swiftscar snaps, incredulous. 

Firestar glares at him. “Of course not. I was just going to say that it will be difficult. We might lose cats.”

“It’s  _ TigerClan _ ,” Cinderpelt says. “Two Clans combined into one. We always knew it was going to be a hard battle.”

“It’s different, seeing the aftermath for yourself,” Firestar tells her. After a long pause, he finally picks up his head and visibly forces himself to straighten. “I arranged a meeting with Tallstar for tomorrow. We’ll be expecting a fight—I’ll need as many warriors as I can spare, considering WindClan’s condition.”

Cinderpelt nods. 

The Clan goes their separate ways to their dens. Anticipation of the battle hangs heavy and grim in the air, a weight settling in the sky. Cloudtail and Brightheart come up to Swiftscar. 

“Hi,” Cloudtail says. 

Despite everything that’s happened and that is  _ going _ to happen, Swiftscar smiles. “Hey.”

“Are you...still sleeping with us?” Brightheart asks. She looks up at him for a second and then fixes her eye on the ground.

Swiftscar glances at Cinderpelt, who gives him a smile with layers of meaning he can’t decipher and nods. “Absolutely.”

Cloudtail tips his head a bit. “You’re a medicine cat officially now, though. Right? So shouldn’t you be sleeping in Cinderpelt’s den?”

“Not officially. Probably not for a few days. Cinderpelt wants me to be  _ really _ sure, and anyway I’m pretty sure Firestar has enough to worry about without conducting any official ceremonies,” Swiftscar says.

Brightheart bumps against him. “Well, I hope it works out. In the meantime, we get to sleep together in the warriors den for a little while longer.”

Swiftscar ducks into the den, casting a glance at her over his shoulder. “Won’t you two miss me?”

“‘Course we will,” Cloudtail says, and then makes a sound like the beginning of a word before he clears his throat, ducking his head. 

They settle into their nests again and Swiftscar tries not to think about the fact that they only have a few nights left to curl up together like this. Maybe once he’s a medicine cat he can still sleep in the warriors den when Cinderpelt doesn’t need him. He lays down. The rest of the warriors are still outside for the moment, leaving the den private. 

“You know, Cinderpelt told me something today,” Swiftscar says into the quiet, and then mentally curses himself for bringing it up. 

“What, did you learn a new herb?” Cloudtail asks, teasing. 

“Hey,” Brightheart says, “be nice. Herbs are cool.”

“It’s not herbs,” Swiftscar says, and nearly kicks himself again. “Apparently half the Clan is expecting you two to announce some kits any day now.”

Brightheart makes a face that might be described as vaguely disgusted. “ _ Really _ ?”

Cloudtail flattens his ears, hurt flickering across his face before he hides it behind a joking look. “What do you mean? Am I not good enough for you or something?”

“Not  _ that, _ ” Brightheart shoves him. “A proper mate. Kits. Right now, at least. Feels awfully fast.”

Cloudtail relaxes and looks at Swiftscar, “So why are cats apparently saying stuff like that anyway?”

Swiftscar shrugs, not looking at him. “I guess you two have spent a lot of time together?”

“I spend a lot of time with  _ you _ , too,” Brightheart says. “And it’s not like you and Cloudtail are strangers. Probably some cats are waiting on  _ our  _ kits.” She wrinkles her nose. “Though they should keep their noses out of our business, I think. All any cat in this Clan seems to care about is when you’re going to have a litter.”

Swiftscar nods. “I know. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“No, it’s fine,” Brightheart says. “Not your fault, anyway. Come on, let’s go to sleep, we’ve got...there’s a big fight tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Swiftscar’s heart twists at the thought of them charging into battle without him, even  _ knowing  _ he wouldn’t be any help. “Yeah, there is.”

-0-0-0-

Except, there’s not. When the ThunderClan warriors—every last one of them, save for Tawnypaw, Bramblepaw, and Speckletail who stayed to guard camp—return, they’re completely unharmed. But somehow, Swiftscar notes, more shaken than they were before. 

“I’m starting to get tired of making battle preparations for fights that don’t happen,” he jokes to Cinderpelt.

If she notices him speaking, she doesn’t respond. “Firestar? What happened?”

“Tigerstar met us with reinforcements—a bunch of cats from Twolegplace that call themselves BloodClan,” Firestar says.

BloodClan? Swiftscar searches the ThunderClan patrol as they slowly trickle into camp. Brightheart and Cloudtail are leaning on each other; Brightheart especially looks  _ awful _ . 

“They’re terrible cats,” Firestar continues, “claws reinforced with dog claws and collars studded with dog teeth. BloodClan’s leader, Scourge...he wants the forest for himself. Tigerstar tried to fight him and Scourge...killed him. All nine lives, one after the other. It was a wound even StarClan could not heal.”

Cinderpelt gasps. Swiftscar wants to run to Brightheart, but he’s not sure his legs will carry him that far. Dog teeth, dog claws. Tigerstar dying nine times over. He can barely imagine it.

Firestar shakes his head. “BloodClan has given us three days to make a choice: Flee, or fight.” 

“They killed  _ Tigerstar _ ,” Cinderpelt says. “If we fight, we could lose everyone.”

“If we flee, we lose our  _ homes _ ,” Sandstorm snaps. 

“It’s a terrible decision,” Firestar says. “BloodClan is strong, yes, but they are a small force. If we could convince the other Clans to join us we would have a chance.”

A  _ chance.  _ Swiftscar finally finds his feet and stumbles over to Cloudtail and Brightheart. He gets on Brightheart’s other side and presses against her. Dog claws. She watched a cat killed by dog claws today, never mind that a cat wielded them.

“Are you okay?” he whispers. 

“No one was hurt,” Brightheart says. “No one but Tigerstar.”

“That isn’t what I asked.” 

She stands firmly for another moment before she slumps. “No, I’m really  _ not _ . I’m  _ scared, _ Swiftscar. You weren’t there, you didn’t see it...they’ll kill us. Maybe, with all the Clans, we could drive them out, but how many cats would we lose?”

“You can’t be saying we just give up?” Cloudtail asks. “Run away?”

“I don’t know,” Brightheart says in a miserable voice. “I just...I don’t want to lose anyone.”

Swiftscar rubs his cheek against hers. “I know. We have three days to figure it out. I’m sure Firestar will be able to convince WindClan to help, and probably RiverClan and ShadowClan now that Tigerstar’s gone. We’ll be okay.”

“You can’t  _ promise  _ that,” Brightheart hisses. “We have no idea what’s going to happen. BloodClan is  _ ruthless _ . I don’t like the idea of running away any more than you do, but if it keeps us all alive, maybe it’s the best choice.”

“No matter what happens,” Cloudtail tells her, “whether we run or we fight, we’ll stick together. All three of us. I promise you that. Where you go, I’ll go.”

“And me,” Swiftscar says firmly.

Brightheart leans into him and sighs. They all stand together, thinking of BloodClan and cats with dog claws and each other, and what they would do to be by each other’s sides for the rest of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading! Sorry about the offscreen battle scenes, I planned to have Swiftscar present for them, but with the way things were progressing it didn’t fit right, especially after his talk with Ravenpaw, so what would’ve been at least 2-3 chapters is now one. I hope it worked alright anyway! 
> 
> Feedback, comments, and kudos make my week!! I’ll see you all next Wednesday!


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle with BloodClan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, it's me again, missing weeks and not being able to stick to a schedule to save my life! Also, very sorry because it has apparently been THREE weeks, not two, since I never even realized the last chapter got stuck in drafts and never posted. Sorry!! Anyway, on the bright side (or possibly the dark side, depending on how you look at it) you'll get the last two chapters tonight!

Swiftscar spends the next two days alternating between learning all the herbs Cinderpelt can stuff into his head and being around Cloudtail and Brightheart as much as possible. Sometimes they share meals, and sometimes he helps them train Willowpelt’s kits in fighting moves—no one says it, but they all know the kits might need them soon. 

Firestar and Tallstar agree to fight BloodClan. What remains of RiverClan and ShadowClan after BloodClan recruited their warriors agree, as well. The third day looms, and the forest is thick with anticipation as preparations are made.

“Swiftscar, this is a huge battle. There won’t be cats to carry the wounded back to camp. You and I will have to be close if we want to heal our Clanmates,” Cinderpelt says. “We’ll bring all the herbs we can carry to the edge of the Gathering place and watch the battle from there. Any wounded cats that can’t get out on their own—which will probably be all of them—we go down and carry out.”

Swiftscar is nodding along as he bundles any herbs they might need into leaves to carry away. They’re meant to meet BloodClan at sunhigh, and he can’t stop looking at the sky every spare second he has, watching the sun creep higher. 

With all their herbs arranged and ready to be transported, Swiftscar and Cinderpelt pick up the bundles and head for Fourtrees. Before they can even reach the entrance, though, Ravenpaw runs in, accompanied by a plump black and white cat Swiftscar doesn’t know. 

“Firestar!” Ravenpaw cries. The ginger leader looks up from where he’s talking to Whitestorm and some of the senior warriors.

“Ravenpaw? What are you doing here?”

“We met Onewhisker on the WindClan border this morning, and he told us about BloodClan,” Ravenpaw pants. “Barley used to be one of their members.”

A low gasp ripples through the Clan, every cat’s look of surprise turning to fear and disgust. Barley flattens his ears but doesn’t back down.

“I  _ left  _ BloodClan of my own accord. I’m not like them, and haven’t been for seasons,” he says with just a bit of bite to the words. “I came to warn you about them.”

“They warned us themselves well enough,” Mousefur snaps.

“There’s more to them than just their fighting skills,” Barley says. “Scourge has a weakness the Clan cats do not: He doesn’t believe in StarClan.”

Firestar shakes his head slowly. “StarClan won’t help us win the battle. Scourge and his Clan are strong fighters, and that strength outweighs any weakness they might have from not following StarClan.”

“You say that now, but after the battle, you’ll understand,” Barley says. “At any rate, Ravenpaw and I came to join the fight, not just warn you about it.”

Firestar gives Ravenpaw a concerned look, and the tom puffs out his chest. “I know how to fight when I need to. And I want to help. I’m not completely useless.” His purple eyes gleam with the promise of a battle.

After a moment, Firestar dips his head. “Very well. I can’t exactly refuse offers of help today. But you know, Barley, that if you left BloodClan they’ll likely try to hurt you the most for defecting. You’ll be in more danger than most of us.”

“And I’ll know how they fight,” Barley says. “I can handle it.”

Firestar nods. “Alright then. We have a battle to win. Speckletail, I’m leaving you here in charge of the camp. If everything goes wrong, if you hear BloodClan coming, you try to get all the elders and kits to Barley’s barn.”

“I’ll stay too, if that’s all right,” Goldenflower says. “Speckletail and Willowpelt will need help carrying the kits at the very least.”

“That’s fine. Everyone else, let’s go.”

ThunderClan moves to leave. Swiftscar and Cinderpelt follow the warriors with their herbs all the way to the top of the Fourtrees hollow, where Cinderpelt immediately sets to creating a makeshift den beneath a bush. Cloudtail and Brightheart hesitate at the top of the slope, and Swiftscar goes to them.

“Please take care of each other,” he whispers. 

“I won’t leave his side,” Brightheart promises fiercely. 

Cloudtail presses the crown of his head into Swiftscar’s cheek. “Take care of  _ yourself _ , huh? You’re in danger today too.”

Swiftscar nods and they reluctantly pull away. Watching them pad toward the battlefield, it hits him all over again: Cats are going to die today. He might never see them alive again.

“Wait!” he cries, stumbling forward, and they turn to meet him again. Without really meaning to, they all duck their heads, pressing together, a three-pointed star. 

“I love you,” Swiftscar whispers. “ _ Both  _ of you.”

“I love you too,” Brightheart murmurs.

There’s a short pause and Swiftscar’s heart drops to his paws.

“Well now it just sounds like I’m copying you if  _ I  _ say it,” Cloudtail says, and they all laugh a little, despite everything. “But I love you both too. Really.”

This time, when they pull away, Swiftscar lets them go. He waits until both their tails have disappeared over the side of the hill to go back to Cinderpelt.

“They’re strong warriors,” she tells him, before he can even open his mouth. “And they’ve got each other, and you.” 

She doesn’t say  _ they’ll be fine _ , and Swiftscar doesn’t know if he would prefer the lie or not. Finally he just sits down and helps Cinderpelt move branches of the bush to create a small, sheltered area, big enough for two or three cats. It will have to be enough. 

The first battle cry rises behind them, terrifyingly close, and Swiftscar hates that he flinches. Cinderpelt drapes her tail across his shoulders. 

“We have to watch,” she says. “If any cat gets injured, we’ll go in together. I can probably carry most of the cats down there, but we’ll be vulnerable, so...you’ll need to guard me.”

“Right,” Swiftscar says. “Are we watching out for every Clan, or-“

Cinderpelt cuts him off, flicking her tail across the hollow. Near WindClan’s territory an older brown tom with a short tail is crouched. By ShadowClan territory, Runningnose paces beneath a pine tree. In RiverClan, a lighter brown tom is watching the battle intently. It doesn’t escape Swiftscar’s notice that Cinderpelt is the only one with an apprentice, but he decides that now is about the worst time to comment on it.

“Obviously any cat in danger is our responsibility, but we can afford to prioritize ThunderClan a little bit,” Cinderpelt explains. 

Swiftscar nods absently as he focuses his attention on the battle. In the writhing mass of cats it’s difficult to tell who is who; BloodClan are identifiable by the collars around their necks, but the rest of the Clans blur together. 

Cinderpelt gasps softly, and Swiftscar’s eyes scan the battleground quickly, searching for what she sees. Finally he spots it—Sandstorm, snarling at a massive BloodClan tom, with blood pouring from a deep slash on her chest. The BloodClan rogue lashes out again, and Swiftscar doesn’t see the blow connect, just her head snapping sideways, red painting her cheek. Whitestorm lunges in front of her, blocking another vicious blow. Behind him, Sandstorm stumbles sideways, and Swiftscar jumps to his feet.

“She won’t last much longer, bleeding like that,” Cinderpelt says, already on her paws and hurrying down the slope. 

Swiftscar is right on her heels. He half-slides down the hill to reach the battle ahead of them, and thanks StarClan that Sandstorm was already on the fringes of it. She’s still mostly protected by Whitestorm, but another BloodClanner appears in Swiftscar’s peripheral vision. He lunges sideways, paws sliding in the earth, already on his hind legs to meet the attacker. His claws connect with the cat’s muzzle, throwing her head to the side. 

The BloodClan cat snarls at him, the namesake of her Clan dripping down her face. Swiftscar spares a glance over his shoulder—Cinderpelt is supporting Sandstorm and starting to hobble away. Swiftscar leaps backward as the she-cat lunges for him, following the two of them. Cinderpelt, thank StarClan, moves quickly, and they’re away from the battle before Swiftscar can get more than a scratch on his shoulder. He watches the she-cat follow their path up the hill and abruptly decide two medicine cats and a wounded warrior aren’t worth it, spinning around to run back to the real battle. 

Swiftscar watches her go, then spins to join in helping Sandstorm up the hill. 

“It’s not that bad,” Sandstorm gasps, “He didn’t get my belly.”

“Hate to break it to you, Sandstorm, but even I know you still have important organs in your chest,” Swiftscar tells her.

Sandstorm shakes her head. “No, it’s not that-“

“Shh,” Cinderpelt hisses. “You shouldn’t be talking.” 

They reach the makeshift den and gently lay Sandstorm down. She’s still shaking her head at them.

“I  _ meant, _ ” she says, drawing in a hiss as Cinderpelt presses marigold to her chest. “That I...I think I’m carrying kits.”

Swiftscar freezes, watches Cinderpelt fumble in her work for a second before continuing. “How would you know? You aren’t showing yet.”

Sandstorm shrugs as best as she’s able. “I just...feel it.”

Cinderpelt nods once, businesslike. “Okay then. Swiftscar, can you keep an eye on the battle?”

“Yes,” Swiftscar says quickly, already spinning back toward the top of the hill.

It’s difficult to tell, but it almost seems like the Clans are winning. Off to the side, Runningnose is struggling to support what looks like a ShadowClan warrior. Swiftscar hesitates, about to run to help him, when a bloodcurdling screech splits the air, louder than anything else in the forest. His head snaps instantly back to the source of the sound, finding it immediately: Whitestorm is lying on the ground in a deadly pool of red, the huge tom he was fighting stands triumphant over him. 

Swiftscar doesn’t even think, just runs. 

Before he even gets halfway down the slope, a flurry of small bodies breaks free of the crowd in one single, massive roar. Every ThunderClan apprentice leaps over Whitestorm, tackling the BloodClanner to the ground. Swiftscar keeps running to Whitestorm’s side, reaching him at the same moment Firestar does. 

“There’s nothing you can do,” Whitestorm breathes shakily. “It’s alright, Swiftscar. Focus on someone you can save.” 

Swiftscar backs up a step, meeting Firestar’s eyes. The ginger leader’s eyes are full of pain, but he nods, so Swiftscar reluctantly retreats to safer ground, feeling like a coward and a failure. 

Cinderpelt is waiting at the top of the hill, and he knows from her eyes that he doesn’t need to explain. She presses her nose against him, the only comfort she can give right now, and he dips his head. 

By the time he manages to catch a full breath and turn back to the fighting, Firestar is already gone, swallowed up by the battle. The pulsing mass of apprentices isn’t gone yet, though, and as he watches they slowly disperse, leaving behind a huge black and white shape smeared in blood. Revenge. The thought tastes bitter.

No other ThunderClan cats get themselves into imminent danger over the next agonizing minute that Cinderpelt and Swiftscar spend crouched, watching. Finally, a cat begins to yowl, and Swiftscar is on his feet before he even registers what’s happening. Cinderpelt puts out a paw to block him. Then he hears what the voices are saying.

“Scourge is dead! Scourge is dead!”

“BloodClan,  _ retreat _ !” 

In the hollow, collared cats begin to stumble free of the Clan’s claws, still screeching about their leader. Swiftscar scans the earth until he sees a bolt of flame; Firestar. ThunderClan’s leader is standing over a tiny black body. Swiftscar’s heard enough from the others to know it’s BloodClan’s ruthless leader. 

“We won,” Cinderpelt breathes beside him. “Swiftscar, it’s over. We won.”

It’s over. The battle’s done. 

He has to find Cloudtail and Brightheart.

It takes all of his self control to stay where he is, watching the cats below instead of charging into the fray immediately. For one horrible second, he can’t find Cloudtail’s bright white pelt among the crowd.

“There,” Cinderpelt says gently, pointing towards two achingly familiar figures, and Swiftscar is gone.

He runs down the hill, his eyes trained on Cloudtail and Brightheart. Just as he reaches the bottom, Brightheart looks up, her eye widening when she sees him. Both of them start running, and then, somehow, they’re crashing together, a tangle of limbs and noses.

“You’re both okay?” Swiftscar asks from where he’s pressed his face into Cloudtail’s shoulder.

Brightheart licks at his ear. “Bit banged up, but we’ll be okay. Others are worse off.”

“Swiftscar!” Cinderpelt calls from behind him, and he tears himself away.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I have to-“

“Go,” Cloudtail says with a gentle nudge. “Do your job.”

He backs away from them and finally has to force himself to turn around and run to Cinderpelt. Her jaws are full of herbs carried down from above, and she’s crouched over Mousefur, who has an ugly gash on her flank and is holding one of her back paws off the ground.

“Broken?” he asks, nodding to it. 

Mousefur shakes her head. “Just tore a claw loose and ripped up the pad. I’m  _ fine _ .”

“I think we’re meant to be the judges of that,” Cinderpelt says. “Swiftscar, I’ve got this covered here if you’ll take a look at some others?”

Swiftscar nods, but before he can fully turn away, her tail at his shoulder stops him.

“I was worried for a moment that you wouldn’t leave them,” she says quietly, with a little nod to Cloudtail and Brightheart. “But you’re doing well.”

“I’m trying,” Swiftscar tells her, and slips into the crowd to look for the most injured warriors.

He quickly finds Fernpaw and Ashpaw huddled together, with a worrying amount of red smearing their fur. 

“Fernpaw, Ashpaw,” he says, crossing the rest of the distance between them in two neat bounds. “You two okay?”

Shakily, Ferncloud lifts one foreleg, revealing a long, bloody gash down the inside of it. Before Swiftscar can even say anything, she turns around, baring the back of her neck, where a large bite is leaking blood. It looks like a cat tried to pick her up by the scruff and she tore away.

“Come with me,” he tells her. “Ashpaw, what about you?”

“Fine,” Ashpaw says gruffly, turning to show off a small cut on his shoulder. “Just this one. It’s not my blood.”

Swiftscar is not as reassured by that as he should be, eyeing the apprentices bloody forelegs and chest, the red smeared on his muzzle. He can’t linger over it for long, though, turning to tuck his half-tail around Fernpaw as he leads her back to Cinderpelt.

“Ashpaw killed Bone,” Fernpaw says quietly. “And I know he killed Whitestorm, and he was trying to kill  _ us _ , but...Ashpaw scared me. He’s not the same, since Mom died. I…” she ducked her head, which had the unfortunate side effect of giving Swiftscar full view of her mauled neck. “I’m just worried about him, is all.”

Swiftscar can only nod grimly as they reach Cinderpelt’s side. No one talks anymore as he busies himself with treating her wounds, and by then Ashpaw’s shown up with Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw. All relatively unhurt, thank StarClan. Swiftscar keeps treating the worst-hurt cats; Dustpelt suffered dozens of minor injuries, Graystripe had a vicious bite on his shoulder. 

Finally, Cloudtail and Brightheart are in front of him again. He touches his nose to each of them and, after a fond-looking nod from Cinderpelt, he looks them over more thoroughly than any other cat. He’s biased, but most everyone else is taken care of, so he’s allowed to be. 

Cloudtail drags his tail gently across Swiftscar’s back as he makes his inspection. “It’s okay,” he says quietly. “We’re both fine.”

Swiftscar lifts his head, eyeing a bloody scratch across Cloudtail’s muzzle. “You’re hurt, though.”

Cloudtail ducks his head, touches a paw to the scratches. It comes away red. “You’re gonna fix me up though, Swiftscar.” He smiles, softly, and Swiftscar nods.

It’s quick work to get a little marigold and cobweb for that scratch, and then Swiftscar spot a patch of red on Cloudtail’s one shoulder. He gives it a significant look and gently pulls the fur away until the scratch is visible. 

“Okay, so my shoulder got nicked,” Cloudtail says. “I’m  _ fine _ .”

“It could’ve been so much worse,” Swiftscar says, focusing far more on fixing up the scratch than is strictly necessary. “Whitestorm  _ died _ , Cloudtail. And I knew it was him, the whole time, I  _ knew _ , but it still looked-“

He bites down on the end of the sentence, closing his eyes. A white tom’s body in a pool of too much blood is waiting behind his eyelids. He opens his eyes again, meets Cloudtail’s gaze. 

“I worry,” he whispers. “It could’ve been you. So just, just let me do this, okay?”

Cloudtail presses the top of his head into Swiftscar’s cheek. “I know. I saw you charge down into the battle to get Sandstorm, and I was so scared something would happen—I wanted to get to you, I swear, but there were too many-“

“I know,” Swiftscar says softly, and he pulls away to check Brightheart.

“Just a scratch on my side,” Brightheart says, turning a bit. It’s her blind side, and as Swiftscar gets ready to take care of it Cloudtail rumbles with a growl. 

“I was supposed to stop that,” he mutters. 

Brightheart licks his cheek. “You can’t be everywhere at once. It’s not deep, I’ll live— _ ow, _ ” she lifted one paw in protest as the marigold went on her wound. 

“You’re okay now,” Swiftscar says quietly. 

Brightheart presses against him. “Yeah, I am. You?” Her eye goes wide and worried as she looks him over.

He nods quickly. “Hardly even fought anyone.”

The three of them only have time to stand together, close, before Firestar’s voice cuts through the air, calling ThunderClan to him. Slowly, the injured warriors pull together. Swiftscar goes to Cinderpelt’s side.

“I’m alright. We pretty much cleaned out our stores, so there isn’t much to carry back. Go back to your…” She searches for a word a moment and settles for just flicking her tail in Cloudtail and Brightheart’s direction.

Swiftscar nearly protests, but a glance over his shoulder at them has all the words dying in his throat. “Yeah, okay.”

“Aren’t you going to get in trouble for, I don't know, neglecting your duty?” Cloudtail asks, looking past him to Cinderpelt. 

Swiftscar shrugs. “Cinderpelt’s not mad at me yet. I think she thinks we’re...sweet.”

“Well, we are, aren’t we?” Brightheart asks. “We’re  _ adorable _ .” She presses up against Cloudtail, leans to lick at Swiftscar’s face. 

Cloudtail leans his head against hers, and Swiftscar joins him on her other side. “Sure we are. Three adorable cats that are going to go  _ home _ . Without the threat of murder, for once, please?”

Swiftscar nods. “Yeah. Good plan. Solid.”

They lean together. ThunderClan starts the walk back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of TPB! Basically. Epilogue is next and then part one of this thing is done!
> 
> As per usual, thank you for reading, and friendly reminder that comments and kudos give me that sweet sweet serotonin if you'd like to click a couple of buttons!


	17. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief summary of the year following the battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it, folks! This chapter's a little bit different because it covers the entire year between TPB and TNP, so it's mostly summary and a couple of scenes written out in between. Sorry if it feels a little choppy, it took about two months to write by itself and I'm honestly just happy it's finally done.

The days following the battle with BloodClan are peaceful. Swiftscar slowly, slowly starts to spend more time with Cinderpelt, and every cat that was injured begins to heal, and everything is  _ good, _ really and truly, for the first time in a very long while. Maybe, Swiftscar thinks, for the first time since Tigerstar was a warrior. 

Snowkit is cleared for light apprentice duties pretty early on, and Swiftscar joins Cloudtail and Brightheart when his ceremony is called to begin. They all watch Brackenfur, beaming like anything, as he walks forward and touches his nose to his new apprentice’s. 

The whole Clan yowls Snowpaw’s new name, and more importantly, there’s the stamping of dozens of paws shaking the earth. Swiftscar watches Snowpaw turn around, curious, and watches his face light up as he realizes.

He’s going to do fine as a warrior. Swiftscar is sure of it. 

A few days later, once they’re healed up, Firestar makes Fernpaw and Ashpaw warriors. Ferncloud and Ashfur. They’re excellent names, and no one yowls them louder than Cloudtail, beaming like anything and racing forward the second the ceremony is over to congratulate his siblings. 

Everything is  _ good.  _ Swiftscar officially becomes Cinderpelt’s apprentice, and has to make his first journey to the Moonstone for the half-moon meeting. 

He meets the other medicine cats (whoever they are idk) and the five of them walk together to Mothermouth. Swiftscar doesn’t have much to say, but he walks next to Cinderpelt and listens to the medicine cats talk like old friends, like one Clan. Like more than that, almost—Swiftscar has never had a relationship this close with most of the cats in his own Clan. 

The thought strikes him that he could, someday, be a part of this group. It’s a warm thought. 

“So, Swiftscar, what made you decide to become a medicine cat?” Littlecloud asks once there’s a lull in the conversation. “We ex-warriors outnumber the regular medicine cats, now. I’m curious why.”

Swiftscar shrugs while he tries to think of a way to explain his reasoning. He’s not entirely sure he knows how to explain it to  _ himself. _ “I’m good at it,” he says at last, “and I’m not very good at fighting anymore. I could learn, but…”

“You don’t want to,” Littlecloud supplies. “I can understand that. What about the other cat….Brightpaw, was it? I remember her from a Gathering or two.”

“She’s Bright _ heart _ , now,” Swiftscar corrects him, unable to keep the touch of pride from his voice. “She’s doing really well figuring out how to fight. We’ve even been talking about her giving special training to the other warriors in case they get a similar injury, so they’ll know what to do.”

Mudfur makes an appreciative noise. “That’s a smart idea! She sounds like a strong cat.”

Swiftscar ducks his head a little. “Yeah,” he murmurs, “yeah, she is.”

Cinderpelt nods along beside him, but no one gets a chance to say anything more before the scrubby grass beneath their paws turns abruptly to stone. Swiftscar looks up from the ground to stare at the entrance of Mothermouth, and then immediately looks down again at the pawprint indents in the stone. Hundreds of thousands of paws must have slotted into the exact spaces over generations. 

His own paws slip easily into the marks as he follows the other medicine cats into the cave. For a brief moment, the moonlight around them dims and vanishes, leaving them blind in the tunnel. 

There’s only enough time for fear to settle cold in his veins and panic to writhe like a live thing in his belly before Cinderpelt touches her nose to his flank from behind. 

“Swiftscar,” she says, barely audible. “Breathe. It’s not a long tunnel. The others are just ahead of us. Keep going.” 

He only realizes then that he’d been holding his breath. Shakily Swiftscar breathes in and then out, and in again. His breathing evens out to something almost normal, and a few seconds later the light begins to filter in around the bodies of the cats ahead. 

Runningnose ducks to one side, revealing the cavern and the Moonstone. It’s absolutely massive, a white stone maybe three tail lengths high, reaching toward a hole in the cavern ceiling where the moonlight shines through. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there staring before Cinderpelt speaks. “Before we begin, there’s a ceremony to be conducted.” 

Swiftscar blurts out, “What?” before he can think to stop himself. 

Cinderpelt tips her head at him. “Didn’t you--no, I suppose you wouldn’t. Medicine cats have private ceremonies for their apprentices, aside from the regular Clan ones. It’s nothing scary, I promise.”

“I wasn’t scared,” Swiftscar mutters, and she gives him a look. 

“ _ Anyway _ ,” she continues, moving to stand directly in front of him. She takes a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and standing as straight as she can manage. That alone, the sense of importance, makes anxiety curdle in his gut despite what she’d said. “Swiftscar, is it your wish to enter the mysteries of StarClan as a medicine cat?”

Inwardly Swiftscar mulls over the words  _ mysteries of StarClan, _ but aloud he says, “It is.”

Cinderpelt steps to the side, giving him a clear path to the Moonstone. “Then come forward.”

A little warily, Swiftscar moves to stand so he’s nearly touching the Moonstone. Cinderpelt turns and aims her muzzle toward the stars and the moon visible above them. 

“Warriors of StarClan,” she begins, “I present you with this apprentice. He has chosen the path of a medicine cat. Grant him your wisdom and insight that he may understand your ways and heal his Clan in accordance with your will.” 

“All that work to  _ stop  _ being an apprentice and here I am again,” Swiftscar jokes. 

Cinderpelt hits him with her tail. “Touch your nose to the rock, mousebrain.” 

“You’re not being very nice to your apprentice,” he tells her even as he leans forward to touch the Moonstone. 

If Cinderpelt replies, it’s lost in the swirling blackness that swallows them. 

Seconds or hours later, Swiftscar blinks and takes a step back, staring around at the cavern. It’s  _ filled  _ with cats, starry figures standing in rows all around the medicine cats. 

“Welcome, Swiftscar,” one cat says. He looks around a bit wildly before spotting the starry figure of Whitestorm. The former deputy looks younger than he did in life, with no scars except the jagged mark of the wound that killed him. 

“Whitestorm!” He says, bounding forward to touch their noses together. “I miss you. Brightheart, too.”

Whitestorm’s body rumbles with a light sound that’s nearly a laugh. “I miss her too. She’s growing up into such a great cat. You tell her I said that, alright? I’m proud of her. And you, too.”

“Thanks,” Swiftscar says quietly. “I will.”

Whitestorm dips his head and retreats to the ranks of StarClan. Another star-speckled figure peels away from the crowd and pads toward him, almost wary. She’s so much younger and healthier looking than she was in life, with a gleam in her eye that’s completely unfamiliar, that Swiftscar doesn’t recognize her for a long moment. 

“Bluestar?”

She smiles, sadly, and nods. “Yes. I wasn’t sure if you would...want to see me. After everything I’ve done.”

“I’m not sure I want to, either,” Swiftscar admits. “But if you have something to say, I’m listening.”

Bluestar nods and sits down. Swiftscar doesn’t. “I guess I deserve that. I’ve had a lot of time and distance up here, to think. It’s easier to see the whole picture from above, especially when you’re not always, you know, worried about your own Clanmates killing you. I realize that I...wasn’t the best leader, the last few moons. Wasn’t even a  _ good  _ leader. Firestar made the right decision, changing your names back. Swiftscar suits you.”

“I…” Swiftscar isn’t exactly sure what to say. It  _ sounds  _ like an apology, even if Bluestar hasn’t exactly said “I’m sorry” yet. “Thank you,” he settles for, eventually. 

“I know it isn’t good enough. I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven. You’d be a warrior right now if I’d been better, and for that I’m sorry.”

He shifts uncomfortably, glances back at Cinderpelt. She tips her head slightly, waiting. “Being a warrior was the  _ only  _ thing I wanted as an apprentice,” he begins, and Bluestar winces. “But I’m a different cat now, for better or for worse. Being a medicine cat wasn’t something forced upon me, and it’s not second-best, or pitiful, or anything else. I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t want it.”

It’s not forgiveness. Bluestar doesn’t take it as such. She just looks at him for a long while, and finally dips her star-speckled head. “You’ve grown up, Swiftscar. But you didn’t come here to talk to one old she-cat.”

As she steps back into the starlit crowd, a host of other spirits begins to melt free. Swiftscar recognizes Yellowfang’s broad face first, as she approaches, and behind her is a pretty tortoiseshell that can only be Spottedleaf. A few dozen other cats step out to surround him, but a small group, maybe ten, stand alone. 

“These are our medicine cat ancestors,” Yellowfang says. “Every last one who has ever walked the path to this cave before you. When you die, you will join their number. In life, they will guide you to the best of their ability. Is this your wish?”

“It is,” Swiftscar says instantly. 

He’s busy scanning the gathered medicine cats, but it isn’t a lie. There are so  _ many _ , stretching back generations. His eyes skip over a gap in the middle of one group and go back. It’s not a gap, just a she-cat standing there, so faded she’s nearly invisible, ghostly white except for her green eyes. She must be ancient, and for some reason Swiftscar is drawn to her. 

“Who...who are you?” he asks. 

She smiles. “My name is Moth Flight. I was the first medicine cat, so many seasons ago. Or, at least, the first one to know StarClan. I discovered this cave. I made the first medicine cat codes.”

Swiftscar nods along, half awed at this cat who lived so long ago and made the first journey into this cave, and then— “Wait,  _ you  _ wrote the codes? Even the one about mates and kits?”

“ _ Swiftscar _ !” Cinderpelt hisses, appalled.

Moth Flight looks strangely guilty. “It’s alright, Cinderpelt. I’m just a cat, after all, if a very old one. And...it was a mistake, in hindsight, to make that law. I know it was a special set of circumstances that weren’t likely to ever be replicated, but at the time I was just trying to keep other cats from being as overwhelmed and conflicted as I was. If I could take it back, I would.”

“But...it’s in the code,” Mudfur says. Several StarClan spirits exchange glances. 

“Codes are just words,” Swiftscar says quietly. “We’ve added to them, why can’t we take one away?” 

Moth Flight looks at him, and it is hard to tell, with how faint she is, but she almost seems to be sizing him up. “You may be right, Swiftscar.”

And that, besides being one of the strangest half-moon meetings Cinderpelt has been to (in her words), is also the catalyst that amends the medicine cat code. 

_ A medicine cat may take a mate and have kits, as long as they have trained at least one apprentice.  _

The Clans, at first, aren’t too happy about it. But turns out all the medicine cats testifying that Moth Flight herself amended the rule changes a lot of minds very quickly. Brightheart, Cloudtail, and Swiftscar spend days celebrating, in their own small way. Cinderpelt agrees that Swiftscar can even sleep with them in the warriors den, as long as they don’t have patients. 

Life goes on.

Sorrelkit, Rainkit, and Sootkit are made apprentices a moon after the battle, and even though Swiftscar still wishes he could mentor Sorrelpaw...Sandstorm is perfect for her. Cloudtail gets Rainpaw, and Longtail gets Sootpaw. 

They’re excellent matches, and Swiftscar makes sure Cloudtail knows it when he frets later over a shrew about not being a good enough mentor. 

Brightheart doesn’t get an apprentice, not yet, and she tries to be happy for Cloudtail, but Swiftscar knows—she wanted one of the kits herself. He tells her there will always be more kits who need mentors, and she’ll have an apprentice soon, and be the best mentor in the Clan. 

The seasons change. Time moves  _ quickly _ , so fast Swiftscar can scarcely believe it as the apprentices grow. Ferncloud and Dustpelt become mates, and have a litter; two toms, Spiderkit and Shrewkit. When no cat is really paying attention, Swiftscar watches them play, and thinks of Sorrelpaw and her brothers, and something aches in his chest.

And then Brightheart comes to him as he’s sorting herbs with Cinderpelt, seeming almost nervous, and he drops everything right away.

“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?"

“Everything’s fine!” she blurts, too quickly. “I just...my belly’s been feeling strange for a few days, and I wanted to ask you to take a look? Just in case.”

She’s talking too fast and the way she keeps looking at Cinderpelt means  _ something, _ but Swiftscar settles for giving her an odd look and leading her to one of the spare nests. He feels along her belly carefully, and then he feels it. 

“Cin—Cinderpelt? Can, can you come here?” he glances back at his mentor as she comes to check. “Is this...what I think it is?” 

Half his body is sick and trembling with nerves, the other half warily, tentatively hopeful. Because if this is what he thinks it is…

“Swiftscar,” Cinderpelt says. “Brightheart came to me days ago, to be sure. She’s pregnant, Swiftscar, and the kits are yours and Cloudtail’s.”

He’s a  _ father. _

Brightheart smiles up at him, the most radiant thing he’s ever seen, and Cloudtail slips up behind him with a grin that means he knows, too, and Swiftscar has never been happier in his life. 

When their daughter is born (just the one, pure white like she took after each of them and with green eyes all her own), she’s absolutely perfect and has all three of them enthralled from the first moment she comes into the world. 

Brightheart shyly suggests they name her Whitekit, after Whitestorm, and it’s perfect. 

The moon waxes and wanes. Whitekit’s three parents dote on her endlessly, and she melts every one of their hearts when she proudly tells Spiderkit (Spider _ paw _ , by then) that Swiftscar isn’t her mama’s friend, he’s her  _ papa _ , and Cloudtail is her dad. Later, when she’s an apprentice at her first Gathering, she’ll say the same to any apprentice curious about the three cats watching her from a distance, and just like her fathers she’ll defend her mother’s scars (Swiftscar’s, too, and if he gets emotional about that, well…). She’s a wonderful little cat.

But before that comes to pass, Sorrelpaw is struck by a monster. Swiftscar never feels quite so horribly awful as when her battered body is carried into camp, when he looks at Cinderpelt and sees old fear in her eyes. He ends up taking care of her wounds, because Cinderpelt simply can’t—her body trembles and she keeps forgetting what she’s doing and when he finally pushes her out she sits and nurses her injured leg like she does in the worst of leafbare, when it bothers her most. Her own painful memories.

Sorrelpaw makes it out alright in the end, though, but her brothers become warriors while she’s healing, Rainwhisker and Sootfur. 

Sandstorm has kits in the meantime, Leafkit and Squirrelkit, two opposites. Spiderkit and Shrewkit become apprentices, to Mousefur and Thornclaw respectively. Whitekit follows a bit later, to Tawnypelt. Swiftscar, Brightheart, and Cloudtail cheer her name loudest of all, and Swiftscar makes sure he’s the first to tell them both they’re going to do a wonderful job. Tawnypelt looks like she’s about to burst with pride, and he knows she belongs in her Clan at last. She’ll train her niece well.

There’s a brief time when Swiftscar thinks Leafkit might ask to be a medicine cat apprentice. It wouldn’t be  _ impossible _ , he’s just never heard of three medicine cats. Leafkit certainly hangs around the medicine den often enough for it to be possible. But in the end she shakes her head when Cinderpelt asks and becomes a warrior alongside her sister. Squirrelkit gets Dustpelt, and Brightheart finally gets an apprentice in Leafkit. 

Sorrelpaw gets discharged from the medicine den, starts training in earnest to catch up to her brothers. Swiftscar treats colds and minor battle wounds and the aches of the elders, and when he isn’t doing that he sits with his mates and watches his daughter grow. 

It’s wonderful, right up until it isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done with part one! Long end not coming up, be warned (or just skip, if you don't care at all about my endless words). 
> 
> I know I already explained this in a comment or two, but for everyone that hasn't seen that yet: There will be a sequel! Possibly more than one! I'm very excited to explore the changes that come about even just from Swiftscar becoming a medicine cat (it's more than you think). However, I do have a couple of questions for y'all, because the next installment is going to take a few months to be published and in the meantime I'd love to hear your ideas!
> 
> 1\. I want to have at least two POVs this time, one for the traveling cats (who may or may not stay the same as in canon) and one in the Clans. I'm attached to Swiftscar so I want to stick with him, but who else should carry the story?   
> 2\. Give me your AU ideas! I've already set up a handful, of course, and have ideas for a few more, but my planning is still very vague so if you have ideas I would love to do my best to accommodate them! This also goes for character interactions since I didn't do half as much of that (aside from with Bright/Swift/Cloud) in this fic as I thought I would. 
> 
> And again, a massive thank you to everyone who's made it this far, especially anyone who's been here from the beginning, through all the struggles of putting this thing into the world! You made this fic possible, at least in part, because I definitely would not have been so motivated to finish without anyone else reading it. Kudos to YOU! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is welcome, and comments and kudos help me write faster!


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